Cherry Blossom
by XxCherry WolfxX
Summary: What can just one night in a cherry blossom grove turn cause? Pain, hate, anger, and of course...romance. A sort of angsty YB fic. R&R plz!
1. A shot in the Dark

**_Cherry:_** Ah, welcome to another brilliant and romantic installment of my…um…romantic ficcys. Today I will skip my usual musings since this is supposed to be a serious love fic. Key words: 'supposed to.' As usual, I have taken even a serious idea and injected in some humor. Otherwise, would you really read this? No. Well, maybe you would if you had no life, but my 'normal' *represses hysterical laughter* readers wouldn't. So this has become yet another funny romance, but with the cliché twist: it is an affair! The first chappie though, it has a little bitty bit of a lemon…

**_Kuro:_** Bitty-bit? Child, it's like a kink-fest.

**_Cherry:_** Okay, maybe it does have a full on lemon or two, and just a hint at the end, but that's why this is rated 'R'. Trust me, I've been to the movies and seen much worse in a rated R movie.

**_Kuro:_** What movies do _you_ go and see…?

**_Cherry:_** *death-glares Kuro the kitsune (yes, she is a kitsune too)* Do shut up, dearest muse, or I may have to kill you. *clears throat* Anyways, as I was saying, lemon warning. Maybe more in later chapters. I don't know quite yet. But this fic is SO not gonna be one big hard-sex, random boinking-type thing. But yeah, as I've said twenty times now. There is a lemon in the first chapter. Boy, won't Vegeta be angry when he finds out what happened that night....

**_Vegeta_****_:_** What...???

**_Cherry:_**  *Happy squeals* Veggie-chan!!! *huggles Vegeta within an inch of his life*  
                **__**

**_Vegeta_****_:_** Ack! _Get away you pest_.... GET OFF I SAY!!!!

**_Cherry:_**  *huggles tighter*  =^___^=

**_Kuro:_** *hands Vegeta an Acme-Brand Authoress Prybar* Here, take this...and Godspeed, you brave saiyajin.... *salutes all army-like*

**_Vegeta_****_:_** *looks at the prybar* Now how should I use this...? *shrugs and whaps Cherry Wolf over the head with the prybar*

**::CLONK::**

**_Cherry:_**  @__@ *slides down limply* Lookit all the pretty paisley ponies, mama... *faints*

**_Kuro:_**  *looks at Cherry lying unconsious* Heheheheh...*shakes Vegeta hand in respect and nods politely* You sir, are my idol...

**_Vegeta_****_:_** *shrugs* No big deal...she was really starting to get on my nerves...

**_Kuro:_**  *looks at the unconsious Cherry again, then to Vegeta* So...you wanna go get a beer or something?

**_Vegeta_****_:_**  Eh, okay...

**::**And so  Vegeta and Kuro walk of to go get their...beer, leaving the beautiful, young authoress unconsious on the cold, studio floor (most likely to die), leaving the fic to start on it's own. Oh yeah, and the party 'Cherry Wolf' does not own DBZ, nor a halfway decent 5-disk changer....**::**

***

"_Ignorant bitch_!!!"

"_Fucking Prick_!!!"

**_::SLAM::_**

Bulma stomped outside, still pulling on a jacket. Another fight with Vegeta, another appliance destroyed. This time, it was the toaster. It would have hit him square between the eyes, but he had ducked and the toaster slammed into the wall, breaking into a million pieces. Everything Vegeta did seemed to annoy her, and vice versa. She hated fighting when Trunks was around, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd usually sit down, bag of chips in hand, and cheer one of them on. Come to think of it, she hated fighting altogether. She loved Vegeta too much. And she wanted to hold the family together for Trunks' and Bra's sake. 

The cool night air ruffled her hair as she made her way down the sidewalk. She shivered and walked faster. She just had to get away. She cut across the green of the park, heading to her 'special place.' It was a secret area that only she and one other knew of. On the outside, it looked like an old, unkempt and rather run-down garden that had been long forgotten. But once the massive palisade doors were unlocked, it became a veritable haven. The _sakuras_, when in bloom, smelled so sweet and looked so sumptuous, that they had a tranquilizing effect on the mind and soul. And that's just what she needed at a time like this. She put her hand to the door and closed her eyes, absorbing the sweet scent that wafted over the walls. She sighed at the memories of young love. Her serenity was dashed, however, the instant she realized she had forgotten the gate key at home.

"_Kuso_!" she cussed angrily, pounding the door with her fist. 

The old gate creaked open a bit, revealing a sliver of pink from the blossoms within. She gasped suddenly. _Did I forget to lock the door the last time I was here? No, the door had an automatic-locking mechanism, so that option is ruled out..._ _I probably just didn't close it all the way the last time I was here..._

The heavy gates groaned on their hinges as Bulma shoved them open. She gently closed the doors behind her and only moved when she heard the _click _of the doors as they swung into place. She walked over to an old and worn cherry blossom tree and let her fingers traverse the bark. She stopped when they fell into a carved rut. She let her fingers trace the initials carved there: A 'Y' and a 'B' enclosed in a heart that was oddly etched out and slightly lopsided. She had to blink back a tear that came to her eye when she was flooded by sudden, fond memories. Her fingers dropped from the trunk, and she sunk down between the roots, the soft pink petals from the boughs above falling down to her heaving bosom. 

"Needed to get away?"

Bulma gasped and looked around. Yamcha sat on the other side of the tree; his head turned slightly, a smile curled around his teeth. She hadn't noticed him there when she first came in; she had too much on her mind. He got up and came to sit with her, and Bulma rested her head against his shoulder. He smelled nice, kind of spicy and dreamy at the same time. He didn't sling his arm around her like she thought he would, instead he drew his knees up and rested his elbows there. He gave a huge sigh and looked down at her.

"Another fight with Vegeta?" he inquired.

"Uh-huh." she nodded.

"What appliance was destroyed this time? The blender?"

"I...Wh...But...You..! I never...You...!" she stammered with rage. Then she sighed. "No, the toaster actually." she muttered.

"Ah, well, I guess...that's the least of your problems, eh?"

"Yeah." she sighed. "Hey," she asked, looking up at him.

"Hmmm?"

"...Well, why did _you_ come here? The hell of it?" she finished.

"Well...no. Actually, I needed a mental holiday. If I didn't get out of the house, I woulda ended up slitting my wrists or throat...or...or blowing out my brains. Once Pu'ar managed to wrestle the choice instrument of death outta my grip, she told me to go take a walk to cool off."

Bulma looked up at him in surprise, horror, question and concern. He breathed shakily and rested his head in his hands.

"Kami...I just couldn't take it anymore...The stress, the pressure and the depression...It's just too much...It literately crushes me. At first, I didn't even wanna come here. Too many painful memories. But then I got over it, and showed up. Y'know, now that I think of it, the memories aren't that bad. In fact, they're pretty good. I know that all sounded kinda cliché, but all I know is that this place is all pretty-like and smells damn good. It's real….relaxing." he explained. 

A broad smile spread across his face, stretching the cross-shaped scar across his cheek. As Bulma gazed up into his eyes, she felt herself falling in love with him all over again. Yamcha draped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. She had to speak out...had to tell him that things just couldn't go on like this... But when she opened her mouth to tell him, she found it attached to _his_ mouth. Heavy tongues were involved. His arms were around her waist, and dropping lower. She had her arms up around his neck. Bulma suddenly snapped back to reality and pulled away quickly.

"What the _hell_ was that!?" she asked, blushing.

"I dunno. I was just wallowing in self-pity when you friggin' leaned up and snogged me. I know one thing though, I loved every second of it." Yamcha smirked.

"But...but where did it come from?" she murmured, totally ignoring him.

"Dunno. Left field, I guess."

Bulma was worried. Worried that Vegeta might find out. But she knew there was no way he could ever know, so why did she worry so much? Instantly, she knew the answer. She was afraid she would fall in love with Yamcha again. And that just couldn't happen. But as she gazed up into his eyes, she couldn't deny what she was feeling. Yamcha's eyes were dark like Vegeta's, but there was something different, Yamcha's had something Vegeta's lacked. Yamcha's eyes were full of depth, care and compassion; Vegeta's weren't. It was also in the way Yamcha kissed. The way he had just acted...usually, she would have just passed it off as a frivolous act, nothing but a testosterone-powered act of lust. But this theory wouldn't work for two reasons because a) _she_ was the one who made the move and b) despite some groping, it was a truly passionate kiss. After all this time, Yamcha still loved her. And, truth be told, a part of her never stopped loving him. 

Yamcha lowered his head until his forehead was pressed against Bulma's.

"You liked it, didn't you?" he whispered seductively.

"Yamcha...this has to stop. We can't..." Bulma protested.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it feels so...so...right." he murmured, pressing his lips against Bulma's.

Normally, Bulma would be compelled to slap him, hit him hard and make him hurt. Hit him, and make him hurt the way her heart did when he did this stupid stuff. But she didn't. Not this time. This time, it was different. There was certain feeling that was pressing in on her…

Yamcha's hands slid from Bulma's waist up to her chest. Precariously, he undid the zipper of her coat. Bulma shifted her arms and cast aside the jacket. She was feeling pretty hot anyways. But his hands didn't stop there. He let them rest on her breast awhile before going to work. His fingers fumbled clumsily with the buttons on the front of her dress. Bulma pulled her lips away hurriedly and placed her hands on Yamcha's.

"Yamcha..." she warned, giving him one of her 'looks.'

Yamcha's head drooped, humility stamped across his scarred visage. Bulma felt a pang of sympathy and hesitated to finish. 'Logical' Bulma was waving the red flags and crying out against this. But the younger romantic within, the one who had never ceased loving Yamcha, was screaming 'Go! Go!' She knew she shouldn't, knew that if Vegeta found out, he would kill them both...But she couldn't resist. Plus, it was only _one_ time... And maybe that younger romantic part of her _wanted_ Vegeta to find out. To make him pay for all he had done. To show him that she could find another if he didn't smarten up. This would teach him; it would teach him a lesson. She didn't need that cocky Oji. She had her ways.

"...be careful, or you'll break the buttons." she finished.

Yamcha smiled in utter relief. He decided not to get fancy, and finished unbuttoning her dress as Bulma worked her hands around his arms to tear free _his_ jacket and shirt. She watched him as he unceremoniously and ungracefully kicked off his pants, and had to laugh. Yamcha glared at her playfully and with a quick movement, separated Bulma from her last shred of clothes. Yamcha gently moved Bulma to the smooth ground, pinning her effectively with his own body. Warm lips found her own as Yamcha pushed Bulma's legs apart with his knee. Bulma was thankful that her cries and whimpers were muffled by Yamcha, who hungrily swallowed the sounds before they reached the world. Yamcha used one hand to lift Bulma slightly, and the other to support himself so that he wouldn't crush the woman. Then he began to gently push inside, groaning out of the kiss at the sheer ecstasy. Bulma arched with a loud cry that echoed off of the walls, and no doubt throughout the city. But Bulma was BEYOND caring by now. She seeked release, and Yamcha gave it to her. The Z fighter was moving slowly, agonizingly slowly, as sweat dripped off his body.

"Kami..." he grunted, thrusting forward faster.

Bulma's body shook at the sudden increase of pace, but as her nails began to rake the soft, earthy loam, and the pressure in her stomach grew larger, she began to scream. Yamcha brought his mouth down to Bulma's collarbone, suckling the tender flesh almost violently.

"Yamcha!" she screamed in pleasure.

As always, Bulma's slender body was pushing Yamcha over the edge. The woman's pleasure-induced screams were echoing loudly throughout the entire garden enclosure. Yamcha pushed in again, penetrating Bulma's body deeper than ever. Yamcha sucked harder, nipping the skin lightly, moving his hand to rub Bulma's special weak point on the back of her neck. She yelped and then moaned, squirming a bit. Yamcha pinned her down tighter, halting the wriggling, but ceasing to stop the tickling. Several seconds later, both partners came with loud screams, Yamcha throwing his head backwards as Bulma's body arched. Yamcha collapsed on Bulma, smiling. 

"Aishitte iru, koibito." 

Bulma smiled back, eyes glazed with blissful content. "Aishitte iru, koibito."

For several minutes, they were silent, and then Yamcha spoke up.

"I wonder if all of West city really did hear that..."

"Kami-Sama..."

She wondered how long they had been at it...not much had happened, she thought. But then again, they were getting older... She could hear him panting as he lay flat on his back. She wanted to curl up into a tiny ball and sleep, but she needed to clean up first. She stood up and strode over to the small pond, which was filled with surprisingly clear water. She eased in and splashed it all over her body. She could hear him ease in silently and come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt the pressure of his still- rigid member behind her. She knew what he wanted but...she felt his hands slide down to her pussy. He began to rub, letting his fingers play with the soft locks of pubic hair.

"Oh Yamcha, cut it out." she muttered

"But don't it feel good?" he asked seductively.

"But...I'm tired."

"Yeah?" he grinned, a gleam in his eyes, "But I'm full of energy."

She smiled and turned her head back down. _The old horndog...never gives up,_ she thought to herself. 

Moving his hand back to Bulma's quivering body, he began to stroke her inner thighs, grinning as the action elicited a moan of pleasure from his partner. He slid his fingers down and eased his middle and fore fingers up and into her still-warm orifice. The water acted like a fine lubricant as he eased his two fingers in and out of her. Bulma's eyes snapped open when she felt Yamcha's fingers pushing into her. It didn't really hurt, but it was uncomfortable.

"Ano..." she whispered

"Shh…" he chided. "Just calm down, okay? It'll hurt if you tense up."

Bulma nodded. She felt Yamcha's fingers spreading inside her, making her entrance open further. He formed a small ball of energy on his fingertips and worked them deeper. A bright blush touched her cheeks, and she felt Yamcha's other hand sliding down her abdomen. She loved the feeling he gave her.  Then, the warmth of Yamcha's hand left her. Yamcha removed his fingers and brought his hands up to her breasts. He smirked as he spun her around, catching her confused glance.

"Nani?" she asked.

"I don't have anything else to use... So this will have to do."

He smiled softly, and Bulma knew just what part of him he was talking about. Yamcha pushed his still-firm member into her slowly, gritting his teeth at the sheer pleasure. She groaned and looked upwards, her mouth meeting his in a passionate kiss. Below him, Bulma moaned softly, not pulling away her mouth. She let her tongue explore every bit of his mouth, as did he. Yamcha let his tongue trace the roof of her mouth in the time being, stifling her pleasure groans. 

Bulma sighed, pulling her mouth away. "Yamcha...stop."

"But you know you like it..."

"Yeah..."

Bulma couldn't resist...it had been so long. She suddenly felt him begin to get more vigorous. His member slipped in and out, working into a rapid rhythm. At that point, Bulma orgasmed. She saw it all: stars, fireworks, and blue flashes of light. It was as if her being was separated into atoms, only to come colliding back together in a rush of glory and song. It was too much leisure for one night, she figured. But she still had too hold out a bit more, for her partner hadn't came yet. No one should ever be denied such and experience as she had just felt. Then, thankfully, she felt his body go rigid as his grip tightened, and the warmth she had felt before came roaring back. She smiled, her eyes half shut. She collapsed lethargically against his chest, and allowed him to drag her out of the pool. They cuddled up together in the crook of their favorite tree, sans their clothes. Both their long, slender legs were intertwined, their fingers linked as well. Bulma lay curled up next to Yamcha as he stroked her face in an attempt to calm down. She sighed heavily. She knew how tense he felt. Right now, her heart was beating like a hummingbird's. She heard Yamcha exhale shakily.

"Kami, I wish I had a cigarette." he groaned.

"You mean you _smoke_?" Bulma asked, startled at his comment.

"Only when my hair's on fire." he replied casually. 

Bulma glared at him. He was referring to an incident that had happened a few years ago. It had been just after she had Trunks, and tensions were high. Yamcha had shown up conveniently at a time when Vegeta was off training. Back then, Yamcha came around every so often just to see Bulma. She knew it hurt him and that he was trying to let go, so she usually didn't say anything when he showed up, but instead just prayed Vegeta would be gone until Yamcha left. Sometimes, she wasn't so lucky and had to break up fights before the saiyajin prince murdered Yamcha for being around his so-called 'mate.' But most often, with Vegeta's busy 'training' schedule, he was gone……

**Flashback (about time, huh?)**                                            

"God, I need a smoke..." Bulma groaned.

Her mother came plodding out of the kitchen, fluffing her already fluffed hair. She cocked her empty head to one side like a confused dog and stopped to watch. 

"Here babe, have one of mine." Yamcha had said, brandishing a pack.

Bulma practically tore the cigarette out of Yamcha's hand.

"You can use my lighter, too." he offered, throwing a silver lighter at her.

Apparently, he had set the flame up on the high setting the last time he used it because the instant she lit up, the flame shot several centimeters into the air and set fire to her bangs. The fact she was wearing industrial-strength hairspray didn't help either. She yelped sharply and beat at her hair. Both Yamcha and her mother were laughing quite hard, choking and sputtering as they tried to regain breath. She managed to put out the fire, but her bangs were quite a bit shorter, not to mention singed and curled at the tips.

"Some people you are to have around during a fire!!" she screamed at them as she stomped out.      

She could hear the laughing let up a moment as Yamcha spoke.

"She smokes quite a bit, then." he remarked. 

And they were off again.

**End Flashback** 

It had become a universal inside joke.

Yamcha laughed out loud. "Haha! I'm just kidding. What I mean is, I only smoke after sex."

"Well, you must have the healthiest lungs around." she murmured, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she tried to shake off the joke. Yamcha laughed playfully and pulled her closer.

As Bulma let her fingers traverse Yamcha's muscled chest. She let her mind wander as well. She had found yet another difference between Yamcha and Vegeta. Vegeta was rough when he fucked her, and Yamcha...although he _was_ a little anxious at first, he soon eased into a mellow rhythm. _Vegeta... Vegeta!!_

"Oh _FUCK**!!!!!**"_ Bulma yelled, sitting straight up.

"Awww...Again? I'm kinda sleepy right now..." Yamcha yawned tiredly.

"Not that, _retard_! Quit thinking with your cock and use your head!" she barked.

Yamcha grinned stupidly. Bulma suddenly realized what she said.

"Oh for crying out loud! Get your mind out of the gutter!" she snapped.

"It's not a gutter...it's a trench." he sniffed indignantly, pulling on his shorts.

But Bulma didn't hear him. She was too busy searching for her clothes. She pulled on her pants and bra, throwing her blouse on loosely. As she searched about for her underwear, Yamcha pulled on his own pants.

"Where are they???" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Yamcha grinned, holding up a pair of lacy black thongs and stretching them out as he examined them. 

"Nice." he remarked.

"_Give me those_!!!!" she barked, snatching them away and cramming them into her pocket. 

Yamcha looked up at her casually.

"I don't see what you're so worried about." he said openly.

Bulma picked up her jacket and spun around.

"Vegeta...If Vegeta finds out about our little 'rendezvous,' he will kill you and then he will kill me. We'll both die!" she explained, a note of panic in her voice.

Yamcha seemed less than concerned.

"Unless Vegeta's a psychic, I doubt he'll find out. It's not like he'll notice anything. You're worrying too much. And you didn't seem to care too much when you were doing it….."

"I know…" she grumbled. "But what if I end up pregnant? I think he'll notice that."

"Maybe he'll just think it's just his doing."

"Not if the genotypic ratio of dominant alleles proves so. There's a good chance your dominant genes will surface, giving the infant a phenotypic appearance much like your own."

Yamcha stared at her blankly.

"_Huh?_" he asked.

"Oh, right. In simple English, he ain't gonna buy that one if the baby looks like you." she explained, her voice still hiding a bit of tension.

"Oh." he replied. "Well don't worry, babe. I mean, what're the odds? C'mon, Bulma. It's a shot in the dark." he explained, shrugging off the worry that was seeping in.

Bulma relaxed a little.

"Well...I guess so." she said as she pulled on her jacket. "I'm heading out. How about you?"

Yamcha sighed and leaned against a tree.

"Nope. I figured I'd stay a little longer. Not like I got that 'special someone' waiting for me at home." he smiled wryly.

"Well then...goodbye." she murmured. "And thanks."

*

Bulma's conscience ate away at her the whole walk home. _It was just the one time_, she told herself. But she couldn't soothe her soul. When she got married to Vegeta, she made a commitment, a commitment to stay true. Even if he was a total prick. She opened the door slowly, and stepped in quietly. She crept towards to her room, but before she could hit the stairs, Vegeta stepped out.

"Where have you been woman?" he demanded in a hushed whispered.

"Out walking." she squeaked. It was the only thing she could manage. She was at a loss for words. Honesty wasn't always the best policy. Vegeta looked at her like he was deciding if she was lying or not.

"You've been gone for two and half hours. That's an awful long time for a walk." he accused.

"So?? It was a long walk!" she barked, her voice raising.

"Quiet, you stupid woman! You'll wake up the kids." he snapped.

Two minutes. She had been home for two minutes and already she was fighting.

She took her time and launched her proposal.

"Vegeta...why don't we forget this conflict and settle it in bed." she whispered, putting on a irresistibly seductive air. 

Vegeta turned away from her.

"You can't bribe me with sex." he said icily.

But apparently she could since five minutes later, Vegeta hauled her up the stairs into the bedroom for some 'action.'

It was the worst pain she had felt in a long time. She had been so focused on the great time she had with Yamcha, she forgot how rough and quick it ws with Vegeta. He was 'get on, get it done, get out' type. He cared only for _his_ pleasure, not hers. She didn't matter. Not to mention he was pretty mad at her too. He practically had torn her clothes off, and Bulma was relieved when he missed the fact that her underwear had fallen out of her pants pocket instead of being on her body. He had pinned her down with his weight, his heavy body holding her in place. His breath was on her neck, and she turned away, closing her eyes.

"What's wrong, onna? Can't follow through with your bargain?" he said teasingly. 

Truth was, she was too scared. But that didn't matter; Vegeta went on with his business anyway. Every thrust, every movement, was fast, misaimed, and searingly painful. She just closed her eyes and waited for it to end… 

****

**_Cherry:_** *with bandages around her head* So that's the end of the chapter. I apologize to anyone and everyone who thinks I made Vegeta look like a jerk in this chapter....especially Vegeta himself. Furthermor--

**_Kuro:_** *Walks out of the staff lounge with a glass of sake in her hand* Oh, crap. _You're_ still alive? And I thought Vegeta had killed you...*pouts*

**_Vegeta:_** *walks up behind Kuro* So didn't I, dammit.

**_Cherry:_**  *eyes go wide* Veggie-chan! Oh, I am soooo sorry.... I made you seem so mean and unloving....*dribbles on*

**_Vegeta:_** *whaps cherry over th head with the prybar* Let's go back to the lounge...

**_Kuro:_**  *shrugs* Okay...

**::** And so they both walk off, leaving Cherry to die...again. Will our authoress survive? Let's hope so, since it is _she_ writing the story......**::**


	2. Agony

**_Cherry:_** It is I, your daring authoress, returning from a long stay at the hospital for skull fractures, brain damage, aneurysms, concussions...the list goes on and on! But the short and short of it is that I am back, the have updated the story. 

**_Vegeta:_** And you live to torment me another day....

**_Cherry:_** *noddles happily* Yup! =^__^=

**_Yamcha:_** *comes bouncing into the staff lounge* I am Henry the eighth, I am, I am Henry the eighth. I am Henry the eighth I am, I am Henry the eighth! I was married to the widow next door, she'd been married seven times before, and everybody was a Henry! (Henry) Wouldn't settle for a Jeff or Sam, I'm...

**_Cherry:_** *claps along* Yay! I love this song! I am Henry the eighth I am....

**_Vegeta:_** *twitches*

**_Yamcha:_** *continues singing* ...her eighth old man! I am Henry the eighth, I am, I am Henry the eighth. I am Henry the eighth I am, I am Henry the eighth! Second Verse same as the first! I am Henr--

**_Vegeta:_** *pulls out the prybar and whacks Yamcha over the head with it*

**::CLONK::**

**_Yamcha_**: @__@ *passes out*

**_Cherry:_**  *goes on singing like nothing happened* I was married to the widow next doo--

**_Vegeta:_** *hits Cherry*

**::CLONK::**

**_Cherry:_**  @__@ *passes out as well*

**_Vegeta:_**  Ah, silence....

**::** As stated, the unconscious party of Cherry Wolf does _not_ own DBZ, but now she has the 5-disk changer! This disclaimer will self-destruct in 5 seconds after being viewed…click fast!** ::**

***

Bulma got up the next morning absolutely exhausted; and she was sore all over from the previous night's affairs. She at least got to sleep in for a few extra hours before Vegeta harassed her into getting up. 

"WOMAN!!! WE NEED MORE FOOD!!!" he hollered.

She got dressed quickly and stumbled down the stairs.

"What do you mean we need more food? I went shopping yesterday."

"Well, go shopping again today. I got hungry, so now we need more food." he explained contemptuously.

She sighed, defeated, and set out to the supermarket. Actually, she did all her _other_ shopping first, and by about 4:00, she set out to the store. Let Vegeta figure out lunch on his own. She knew she would regret it later, but for now it was settling her anger. She strolled down the aisle selecting the food of the shelf like a zombie. It took nearly an hour in the check out, and by the time she was driving home, it was 5:45. She looked at the radio-clock, and knew she should get home with the goods, or Vegeta would get bored and start blowing stuff up. But first, she felt compelled to make a side stop. She shut off the ignition and stalked into the familiar house. The door was open, so she merely pushed it aside. It was dark inside the house, and shadows danced about from the lights of passing cars. _He_ was sprawled across the couch, snoring slightly. She edged over towards her former flame. His face looked peaceful and there was no movement from him save for the raise and fall of his chest. She caught a slight glaze on his cheeks as a passing car threw a soft glow of light into the room. She leaned over and softly wiped the tears off his face. She bent down, kissing his sleeping face.  She let her fingers trace the scars on his cheek and then the one through his eye. His face twitched suddenly and he slowly opened his eyes. 

"...Bulma?" he whispered.

"... ... ...Yeah."

He sat up and turned his face away from Bulma's. 

"Bulma...we can't keep--"

"Meeting like this?" she finished. "Yamcha, come here." she said, pulling him close to her. He pulled himself away quickly. "What's gotten into you?" she asked.

"Bulma...there is something you should know--I..." he spoke in a low, broken voice, like he was on the verge of tears, "...haven't been able to get over you. I think--I think...I'm really in love with you."  

Bulma was stunned.

"Yamcha...I...You know this isn't possible. I _can't_ love you...I'm sorry..." she mumbled hurriedly.

"Oh...well...I suppose it's your way...You're such a seductress. You pull me close, play with my libido and then you throw me away like I was garbage or something. I..." he trailed off miserably. 

He sounded horrible, like he was about to cry. He put his face in his hands and started shaking. Bulma leaned closer to comfort him when he whipped up suddenly. She looked at him. And he looked at her...And he was wearing a big red false clown's nose.

"Ack!" Bulma yelped in surprise, falling off the couch.

Actually, Bulma found it really, really funny, even though the joke was on her. He just looked positively hilarious. They were both practically falling apart with laughter. Then, a startling thing happened. She accidentally found herself attached to his mouth (he took the clown nose off first, though). They shared a passionate kiss, and ended up toppling over on top of one another. After a lovely snogging session, Bulma's logical half popped back and she leapt away like a leaping banana.

"Oh, Kami...it's happened again...Why didn't you stop me????" she demanded, grabbing Yamcha by his collar and shaking him.

"C'mon Bulma, you know me." he defended.

"Shit. I've got to get going. I have food in the car that will spoil if I leave it out any longer....I just wanted to stop by to make sure you hadn't killed yourself." 

"It was fun while it lasted." he muttered, still sounding rather downtrodden. "Just do me a favor... make up your mind." he said, retreating into his bedroom.

"The best advice you've ever given me." she whispered, starting out the door.

*

She returned to her house a little after 6:30pm. She crept in and headed to the stairs. She could hear Trunks' music from upstairs and Bra's sweet laughter as she played with her dolls. She managed to get up the stairs unnoticed by anyone. She pushed Trunks' door open a little bit and looked inside. Like she thought, he was listening to music and was reading a magazine as well. She backed out slowly and shut the door. She ventured across the hall and popped her head into Bra's room. Bra was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a myriad of doll clothes. She turned around and smiled at Bulma.

"Hiya mama!" she sang, still holding a half-dressed doll.

"Hey sweetie." Bulma smiled. "Did you eat supper already?"

"Mmm-hmm." she responded, going back to dressing the doll.

"Well, what did you have?"

"Papa took us out. He didn't seem too happy though. I bet he missed you, mama." she declared.

Bulma smiled ruefully. "Yeah...missed me." she bent down and kissed Bra on the cheek. "Mama's tired. I'm going to go lay down." 

"But you'll be here to tuck me in, right?" she asked, her eyes full of question.

"Of course." Bulma smiled. "Of course."

She ventured to her room, knowing she couldn't bribe Vegeta with sex this time. He was going to be livid. She entered her room, the door instantly slammed behind her. She jumped slightly and spun around quickly. Her breath froze in her throat as Vegeta stepped into view. He had a solemn look carved into his face, and was most certainly pissed off. He said nothing but crossed his arms and furrowed his brows.

"I want to know what's been going on. _Now._"

"I was out shopping." she said plainly.

"Bullshit." he growled. 

"I never asked you to believe me. You men are---"

"Good." he cut in. "Cause I don't believe one word of the _shit_ you're spewing." 

"I..." Bulma started.

"Where were you for supper?"

"I told you. I was out shop--"

She never got to finish her sentence. Vegeta slapped her across the face with such force that she slammed into the floor.

"Where were you??? HUH????" he yelled.

"I...I told you...At the damned shop!!" she sobbed.

"DON'T TAKE THAT FUCKIN' TONE WITH ME!!!!" he hollered as he slammed her against the wall. 

"Now tell me the truth." he hissed.

"Why don't you believe me? I was only out shopping." she wailed.

"I can SMELL your fear, woman...I can tell when you are lying...and you are lying." he whispered, bringing his face close to hers. His obsidian eyes flashed as he stared her down.

Bulma couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. He would kill her if she did...all she did was cry.

Vegeta slapped her across the face twice and growled. "You're seeing someone behind my back, aren't you? That's why you are so nervous...isn't it? But who...?"

"Oh, Kami...me? Seeing someone behind your back? Hahahahahahaha!" she snickered. She meant to laugh loudly and carefree, like the statement was ridiculous, but all she managed was a sad, nervous laugh that sounded strangely like a hyena in heat.

"It's..._him."_ Vegeta spat. 

"Who..?" she inquired.

"_Him_. That..._earth scum_." he growled the last words like they left a nasty taste in his mouth.

Bulma felt her heart speed up.

"No..." she should have called out against it, or blatantly denied it. Then he might have believed her...but all that happened was she looked down at the floor, her face becoming bright red as she struggled to maintain a blank face. Vegeta caught on and frowned.

"You are..."

"...No."

Vegeta wound up and hit her...hard. She flew across the room and slammed into the wall. She lay crumpled in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably. Vegeta stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Bulma crawled into the bed and cried herself to sleep, the agony of the day sinking in.

****

                **::** There will be no ending skit for this chapter, since the authoress is currently unconscious, and  the only conscious party being Vegeta... So this space will be filled with advertising for our sponsors: IT'S A...JINGLE FOR GOLDFISH, BAKED AND NOT FRIED GOLDFISH, THE WHOLESOME SNACK THAT SMILES BACK UNTIL YOU BITE THEIR HEADS OFF. DO YA SEE THE FISHIES SWIMMING? OH, LOOK! THE PRETZAL'S WINNING! (Now doesn't that make you feel good about goldfish?) DIDJA KNOW THEY'RE MADE WITH REAL CHEESE, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE SHAPED LIKE FISHIES? THE SNACK THAT SMILES BACK......GOLDFISH!!!! Eat Pepperidge Farm's goldfish brand crackers or we will eat YOU! We know where you live...each one of you...**::**


	3. Shopping Trip

**_Cherry:_** Hey, ho and welcome back! Actually, I'm surprised that you're still reading...especially after what I did to Veggie-chan...**:**sniffles**:***runs over to Vegeta and clings to him* VEGGIE-CHAN!!! I am so sorry... I will do anything to make that up to you...

**_Vegeta:_** Why don't you go play in traffic???

**_Cherry:_**  *salutes like a marine* Sir yes sir! *runs out of the lounge*

**_Vegeta:_**  Finally...

**::MEANWHILE::**

*Cherry is standing in the middle of the street, watching cars swerve around her*

**_Cherry_**: I will do anything for Veggie-chan! Even if it's stupidly dangerous and runs the risk of me getting hit by a car! For I am in his debt for making him look like a satanic bastard, and technically, that's just the tip of the iceberg...he looks much worse in chapter four and especially in chapter five... Oh, Veggie-chan, I have forsaken thee!!! *sobs*

*is suddenly hit by an eighteen-wheeler*

**_Cherry_**: *peels self off the street with a large, cartoonish, spatula* But I will not die!!! I can't!!! I must stay alive for Veggie-chan…oh, and the story as well. But definitely for Veggie-chan!!! AWAY!!! *runs back into the studio*

**::**And so, after defying the laws of reality by being able to survive being hit by a truck unscathed, our debonair authoress charges back into the studio, most likely to inflict more torture on Vegeta. The only question we hold is why the hell does Vegeta stick around? Ah, well. That may never be known, but one thing is for certain: Cherry wolf doesn't own DBZ, nor will she ever....**::**

***

She woke up the next morning; still aching from the beating she received the night before. The bed was empty, save for her. She got up and limped into the bathroom. She gaped when she saw the face in the mirror. An angry bruise spanned her left cheekbone and a raging red handprint was sitting on her right cheek. She had a good-sized bump on her noggin, too. She ran back to the room and got dressed quickly as she could manage. At one point, during her haste, she put her shirt on _backwards_, something she almost never did. She retreated back to the bathroom and threw some concealer over her war wounds. The bump she could not hide, but she could at least make a convincing story. She trotted downstairs and into the kitchen. Vegeta was sitting at the table reading the paper. He glanced awry at Bulma over the top of the paper and then looked back away. She went to open the fridge but her hand stopped inches away from the handle. She really didn't feel too hungry. Her mother shuffled in, fluffing her hair

"Oh, you're up! Here. I want you to pick some stuff up for me at the store." she said, handing Bulma a shopping list.

"But I _just_ went shopping!" she complained. "Why didn't you just give me this yesterday when I was out?" she demanded.

"I didn't need this yesterday." she smiled, still fluffing her hair. She giggled all stupid, like her brain had fallen out, and wandered off.

Bulma sighed, not wanting to argue the point. She needed an excuse to get out of the house away from Vegeta anyways. She grabbed her purse and pulled on a jacket, heading out the door.

*

Yamcha sat on a park bench, surveying the area for women. He was going to give up and head home when he saw Bulma walking down the street carrying a heavy-looking bag full of...stuff. She wandered over to the bench and sat down next to him.

"Hey baby, whatcha doin'?" he asked.

Bulma yelped and looked at him. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Hey, I was just sitting here on this bench, minding my own business and then you sat by me and spazed. Sheesh. It's always my fault, huh?" he blinked, looking slightly taken aback.

Bulma blushed and set down the heavy grocery bags. "Sorry."

"It's all cool. Now, why are ya carrying all those bags? Can't you just pop them into the trunk of your car and, you know, drive off?"

Bulma growled. "Gee, I would love to but...I left my damn keys at home." she muttered.

"Why didn't you run back and get them?"

Bulma wanted to tell him, to rat out Vegeta, but she didn't. If she did, he would get all protective of her and try to fight Vegeta. Poor Yamcha would get his ass thoroughly kicked. So she made up an excuse to hide behind.

"It's healthier to walk, anyways." she declared, crossing her arms.

"Whatever you say." he laughed. 

Then he stopped. He noticed an angry purple mark showing through the concealer on her face. He wondered where she got it. He brought a hand up to Bulma's face and ran a finger across the bruise on her cheek. "Hey, what happened here? Fall down the stairs again?"

Fall down the stairs...that was the excuse she gave everyone to quell their worries when they saw the bruises and bumps she had. She blushed slightly and made up a lie hurriedly.

"Uh...yeah. Trunks left his bag on the stairs and I tripped on it."

"Again?" he uttered. He wanted to believe her but...she was probably telling the truth anyways.

"Yeah...again." she muttered.

"Damn, woman! You're more clumsy then I am at times!" he laughed, slapping her on the back fondly. He smiled at her and she felt her heart absolutely melt. She shook her head and smiled back.

"I have to get going now." she said as she stood up stiffly. 

"Need any help with the bags?" he asked.

"No. I'm fine." she murmured.

He nodded and waved as she stumbled off hastily. He got up and began to walk home. He was worried about her. It seemed every day now she had a new excuse. Wait, no...a new bruise and an old excuse. She always got so defensive when she was asked about it and this bugged Yamcha. He suspected a few things...things Vegeta might be doing but...what was he going to do? Fight Vegeta? Hah. He was too strong a man, no saiyajin, for Yamcha to even try and fight. He sighed and looked back at Bulma's fleeting form. She looked so forlorn and hurt...he shook it off and smiled. She probably just had a lot to do, what with raising two kids _and_ dealing with Vegeta. He laughed and thrust his hands in his pockets and walked up to the door of his home. He placed his hand on the doorknob and pushed inwards. He sat down on the couch and clicked on the TV. Nothing on. He got up and ventured out into the kitchen. Pu'ar floated in from the kitchen, and hovered next to Yamcha when he sat down.

"Have a good day?" she asked

"Yeah...not a total loss." he smiled.

"Good. I'm glad you're back to normal." she laughed. "Here. I made you some milky pops." she said, setting the glass in front of him.

Yamcha grinned and took a sip. "Mmmm…creamy." he smiled.

Pu'ar clung to his shoulder and nuzzled his neck. She said nothing but cried softly. "I was so scared I would lose you..." she whimpered.

"Don't worry. I ain't goin' nowhere." he said, reaching up and patting her head. "Just...don't worry anymore about me. I'm to wussy to really go through with it." he assured her.

Pu'ar smiled. She could care less about whether he was lying or not. She was just glad he was here and most of all…alive.

*

Bulma arrived home early, it was only about 1:00pm. She set the bags on the table and went to sneak back out the door when Vegeta put a hand on her shoulder.         

"Woman...where are you going? Not to see..._him, _I hope." Vegeta growled.

"Him? Oh...nonononono...I was just going to take a walk." she uttered. Truth was, she wanted out of the house, and away from him.

"I hope you aren't lying...or I may have to pay him a 'visit', if you know what I mean."

"No...I just wanted to take a stroll. The weather is nice and I still have things to pick up at the mall." she said apprehensively.

"Fine..." he grumbled, walking away. "Women and their shopping..." he uttered.

Bulma bolted out the door. She _did_ go to the mall, but she didn't do any shopping. She just sort of sat on a bench and occasionally went into the stores and looked around. It was the first time she had ever went into the mall and didn't buy anything. She felt depressed and…well, dejected. The pain and stress all built up and bore down on her, crushing her resistance. She sat down and buried her face in her hands and just cried. She felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she looked up. Yamcha was sitting next to her, a solemn look on his face.

"Okay. Out with it." he said, crossing his arms.

"Out...with what?" she asked, her heart speeding up.

"I know something has been going on. I want to know what." he explained bluntly.

"Nothing has been going on!" she screamed, jumping up and stamping her foot.

"You know, I'm not _that_ stupid. Every day I see you, you have a new bruise. At first I thought nothing of it. Then, your excuses got more and more unbelievable. You used the same one three, four times. Your condition slowly deteriorated. I'm really worried." he confessed

"Wow...I never knew you had such a deep thought process, Yamcha...or that you knew such big words." she said, shocked at Yamcha's passionate soliloquy.

"Yeah, neither did I." he muttered.

There was a long silence before Bulma spoke up. "Look, you don't need to worry. I'm fine."

Yamcha stood up and looked at her. "Fine. I won't push the issue. I'm just really worried, that's all. If you ever need to talk, or need anything at all, you know my number. Things will always get worse before they get better." he said, standing up. He walked off, throwing one casual glance over his shoulder. It was almost as if he was psychic, things _were_ going to get worse before they got better.

***

**::BACK IN THE STUDIO::**

**_Cherry:_** *comes running back in with animeish tire marks on her back* Veggie-chan, I have returned!!! I went and played in traffic like you ordered and even after getting hit by a large truck, I managed to survive the utter pain just so I could see you again!!! Is that not great???

**_Vegeta:_** *falls to his knees and looks up at the sky* Why, Kami-Sama, why??? What did I do to deserve this…other than all the sinning. *points at Cherry Wolf* Why must you do this to me??? If this is some sick cosmic joke, it's not funny anymore!!! Now you're just being cruel!!! WHY????? *falls down crying*

**_Cherry:_**  There, there, Veggie-chan…don't cry.

**_Vegeta:_**  *pops up and crosses arms, pretending like nothing happened* Cry? I have no idea what you are speaking of. 

**_Cherry:_** Neither do I, but hey, I get around.

**_Vegeta:_** You depress me.

**_Kuro:_** Join the club, I say.

**_Cherry:_** Eh, whatcha gonna do?

*A loud rumble fills the studio, shaking the place all earthquake-like. Everyone turns to stare at Vegeta*

**_Vegeta:_** What? I'm hungry. I'm a sayajin; we fight and use a lot of energy and have high metabolisms. We _have_ to eat a lot.

**_Kuro:_** Hey, didn't ask for a life story. Oh well, how about we go eat out someplace?

**_Cherry:_** All right!!! *pumps fist in air* Last one there's the…*pauses a moment*…last one there!!!!

*runs out door*

**_Kuro:_** *slams door shut behind Cherry* Wanna eat here?

**_Vegeta:_** Eh, okay

*exeunt (hee-hee, I'm learning Shakespeare. For those who do not know, exeunt means 'exit' or something. So basically, they left.)*

**::**Once again, our debonair authoress has been easily outsmarted. But this time, she remains intact and concussion free, so you can count on another chapter as soon as she gets back…**::**


	4. Three Months On

**__**

Cherry: Due to my overwhelming amount of schoolwork that has been so rudely piled upon me as of late, there will be no little opening skit-thing. Just the disclaimer; nothing special. 

**__**

Kuro: Feh, work indeed. You're just too lazy.

**__**

Cherry: Writer's block! I have _writer's block_!!!

**__**

Kuro: That's just a cheap way of saying you're too lazy to do any proper writing.

**__**

Cherry: Hey, I got the next three chapters finished and uploaded!

**__**

Kuro: Yeah, whatever. You gonna read the disclaimer or not?

**__**

Cherry: Righto. I do not own DBZ or any of the characters, nor do I own my independant thought process.

**__**

Kuro: Oro?

**__**

Cherry: Yeah, I sold it on e-Bay for a wad of cash! ^-^

**__**

Kuro: ... Let's just get on with the story.......

*Three months later*

Bulma lay in bed, weak as a kitten. She had felt like crap pretty much the entire day. It had been the same yesterday, too. And the week before. She groaned and held her stomach, curling up in a ball. It was 7:00am and all week all she had done as soon as she got up was hobble off to the bathroom, with all the grace and agility of a pregnant cow, only to puke her guts out. She didn't think much of it, though. A flu bug was going around, so she figured that was what she must have. To make things worse, both Trunks and Bra had caught it and were home sick and Vegeta hadn't lifted a finger to help. All he did was lumber off and train. Her days consisted of hobbling off to the bathroom, hobbling back to her room, hobbling off down the hall to the kid's room, then hobbling back to her bedroom. She lay facedown on her bed, exhausted before the day had even began. Then, she recalled a conversation she had with Chi-chi not too long ago. 'If you're sick, you shouldn't have to do a thing. You should just take a break and have some time for yourself. Let them figure things out for themselves' she had said. And she was damn right. Today was going to be Bulma's day only.

*

Bulma lay face up on her bed, a wet cloth draped over her forehead. A few saltine crackers and a bowl of almonds sat on her nightstand, next to a pitcher of pineapple-banana tropical fruit juice. She had a tape of dolphins chirping on in the background. It was supposed to be a soothing relaxant, but she didn't see what was so damn soothing about it. All the tapes were was just a bunch of dolphins going _squeak, squeak squeaky._ But she was just too lazy to get up and change the tape. She reached over and grabbed a handful of almonds and poured them directly into her mouth. Lately, she had such an unexplainable craving for almonds. She hadn't craved almond since she was pregnant with Trunks and then with Bra. Suddenly, a horrid thought struck her mind. She sat up bolt upright, flinging the cloth to her feet. She threw herself out of bed and got dressed hastily. She bounded downstairs, grabbing her keys of the table.

"Goingtothedrugstorebebacksoonbye!" she blurted as she flew out the door to anyone who happened to be listening. Which was pretty much no one. 

She hopped into the car and started it up. Fuck being sick, she could worry about it later. She made a speedy trip to the drugstore and got back to the house, sprinting up to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her. Fifteen minutes later, a blood-curtling scream ripped free of her throat. She looked down at the EPT home pregnancy test in horror. The two lines of doom leered up at her. She snapped the test in two and slammed it into the trashcan. She felt her nausea come roaring back. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and hurled until her sides hurt. She slammed the cover back down and flushed the toilet. She wheezed heavily and laid her head on the cover. 

"No....It's not true...it can't be...I'm too old to be having kids..." she whined. 

She leapt back up and ran back downstairs. She seized up the phone and hastily dialed up a certain someone's number.

"Yamcha, wanted sex god at your service."

"Yamcha! Stop fucking around, it's Bulma. Look, you need to come over, _NOW_." she said.

"Hmmm? Okay. Wait...Vegeta isn't around is he?" he asked nervously.

"No. He's off training...I think." she answered.

"Um...well, okay. I made a promise to be there for you." he said.

"You still remember _that_?" she said in disbelief.

"Yep. Never forget a promise I make to a pretty face." he laughed.

"Fine." she sighed, "Just get down here."

"'Kay! Bye!"

"Bye."

She hung up the phone and sat on the couch to wait. Lo and behold, it took him little less than five minutes to get there. He sauntered in and sat down next to Bulma and looked over at her.

"Hey sexy mama...whatcha want?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Under normal circumstances, I would have to hit you. But I feel like crap, so I won't. But this is serious. I needed someone to talk to about...something." she said, lowering her eyes.

"Like what?" he asked, suddenly feeling his heart beat speeding up.

She took a deep breath. "I'm...pregnant."

Yamcha's mouth dropped open and his eyes went huge. He stared at her like a goldfish, not even blinking once. Bulma looked at him.

"Yamcha?"

Nothing. 

"Yamcha?"

Still nothing. 

Bulma sighed and picked up her favorite novel and started reading. "When you're ready..." she muttered.

*Three hours later*

Bulma looked up at Yamcha, who was still just staring with the same stunned expression.

"Do...you want a glass of water or something?" she asked, setting down her book.

"No...no I'm fine..." he finally muttered. He sighed, letting out a low whistle and leaned back. "Preggers? Again? Man, you just keep poppin' them kids out. Guess this is to rub salt in the ol' wounds, huh?" he said, looking away.

"What? No... I'm not like that. I just...needed to talk and... and..." She broke off, tears forming. "I just can't take the stress. Just...talk to me. Oh, man...another kid. Damn Vegeta all to hell!!!" she screamed, leaning into Yamcha's chest and giving it a good pound. 

"How d'ya know it's his?" he asked, disregarding the muffled _thump_ Bulma's fist made as it connected with his chest. he'd have a nice bruise tomorrow, but for now there were more important things to worry about.

Bulma froze. _The cherry grove.... that night.... Oh, Kami...No...._

Yamcha laughed, pulling her closer. "I'm jus' kidding! Who else could it be? The milkman's?"

__

"Yamcha, stop and think. Do you remember that night in the orchard?"

"...Yeah." he grinned, a smile playing about his face.

"Well? Do you know what this means?"

Yamcha gaped, adopting the blank look he had a few hours ago. Bulma snapped her fingers in front of his face, snapping him out of the trance. He blinked a bit before speaking. 

"C'mon...you can't think that I...I knocked you up? C'mon...it makes no sense." he uttered.

"Yeah it does. There is a good chance, genetically speaking that..." she began, launching into a detailed explaination of genetics and the art of conception. Yamcha just stared blankly.

__

Blah, blah, blah. All this sciency stuff is confusing me...Why does she have to use such big words? Man, I lost her back at 'genetically speaking' and she's still going on..., he thought.

"Uh, Bulma?"

"Yes?"

"Um...I'm _really_ confused_-_like. Can you...um..."

"Right. There's a fifty-fifty chance it is yours. Simple genetics."

"Simple?"

There was a long silence before Yamcha spoke up.

"If it's such a problem, then whydon't you just, you know, 'get rid of it'?" he suggested.

"Yamcha...I can't. It's just, after having two kids, I can't." she murmured in a low voice.

"Give it up for adoption as soon as ya pop it out." he fired again.

"Imagine you carried a kid around nine months. Your two lives are connected! You can't just...barter it away like it meant nothing." she snapped.

"But...chicks have babies and guys don't. And, um, I'm a guy." he pointed out.

"Ugh..." she groaned. A little kitten wandered out and mewled up at her. She grinned and picked up the kitten, a brilliant idea striking her on the spot. "Here. Let me explain this in terms you will understand. Let's say this kitten represents a baby. Follow me?" she started. "Now, I'm going to show you how much it hurts to give up something you raised."

"No, no, no! I get it, I get it! Don't hurt the kitten!" he said, reaching out for the baby cat.

"No. Look, I'm not going to hurt the kitten. Here. Hold this." she said, handing him the kitten. "Pretend you are given this kitten to take care of for nine months and ---"

"Look at the kitten!" he squealed, snuggling the baby cat.

"Er...yes. Anyways, after the end of nine months, let's say you have to give the kitten away..."

"Who's a cute kitten? You are! And yer so fuzzy, and lovable..." he went on. Yamcha didn't respond to Bulma at all as he was obsessed with snuggling the tiny kitty. He wasn't even paying attention to anything she had to say.

"You know, maybe I should have explained this _before_ I gave you the kitten..."

"Yeah probably." he muttered. He went back to huggling the kitten; completely forgetting about what Bulma was trying to point out. She sighed in an annoyed sort of way and grabbed the tiny cat away.

"Aaaah! Don't hurt the kitten!" Yamcha yelped, holding out his hands.

"I'm not gonna hurt the damn kitten! Look, you can't even go five minutes without the kitten. How would you feel after nurturing and growing up with the kitten...only to have it be...lost..." she broke off, looking down, tears of anger and frustration forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Look...maybe I was wrong but...there is a chance that it _is_ Vegeta's whelp, right?" he consoled, taking back the kitten and stroking it softly.

She sniffed and looked up. "Yeah...we can only hope for the best..." she whispered.

Yamcha set down the kitten, holding Bulma and nuzzling her slightly. He wished he could stay there forever...but if Vegeta came in and saw this, it would be his end. And a painful one at that. He sighed, sliding away.

"I gotta get goin' now. Y'understand, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Hey...whenever you need it, I'm here." 

He smiled back at her, turning away and heading out the door.

****

**__**

Cherry: I think I've done it! I do believe I've writen a chapter that _doesn't_ make Vegeta look like an abusive ass!

**__**

Kuro: But Vegeta wasn't in this chapter....

**__**

Cherry: Exactly!

**__**

Kuro: Why me.....?

****

:: And so ends another chapter. Now I must go get the red dye out of my hair from school spirit day. Oh, and I have to do my homework too. See ya next time! Reviews are much loved, BTW...**::**


	5. Interrogation

**__**

Cherry: Let's skip the small talk and get to the disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or the characters, nor will I ever. Maybe when I upload the next three chapters (7, 8, and 9) I'll have the time to write out a decant intro. But as for now...nothing. Remeber, reviews are loved! It only takes a few seconds to type out a short review. Flames will be used to make s'mores!

****

"He was over here, wasn't he, woman?" Vegeta interrogated that night.

"No! Well...maybe for a little bit...but nothing happened..." Bulma said, looking down and turning away. She shifted slightly on the edge of the bed, averting her eyes.

"His scent is all over the place." he glowered.

"So?" she asked.

"So...his stupid human stench is all over _everything_, including you. It's making me nauseous."

"I thought he smelled nice."

"Stupid woman...of course _you_ would."

"If you would stop being so anal retentive, the--"

She was cut off as Vegeta whipped around and smacked her.

"Shut up! I hate doing this to you but it's the only way you'll learn..." he muttered.

"If you hate doing it, then why do you do it?" she fired back.

"You won't listen to anything else."

"He's only a friend! Can't I have guy friends? Is it against the law?"

"I smell your fear and your guilt. It has lingered since, like it won't go away, like you are worried by something..." he grumbled, stalking about her.

"It's not like I slept with him..." she choked.

Vegeta studied her for a moment, a low growl of anger rumbling in his throat. His sour frown turned into a glare of hate.

"You lie...that _is_ what happened.... I can't believe you would drop so.... LOW!" he screamed at her, slapping her again, knocking her down. He grabbed her up by the hair, shaking her as he yelled into her ear.

"How could you do this????? SLUT!!!" he screamed at her, heaving her to the floor.

"Please...Vegeta...it was a one-night...stand..." she cried. Had she been thinking properly, she would have denied it. But her thoughts were muddled and her mouth seemed to run on it's own accord.

"So it all comes out...LYING BITCH!!!" he yelled louder, beating her and throwing her into a wall. 

Bulma got up and made a dash to the bedside. She seized up a book and threw it at him as hard as she could, watching in satisfaction as the corner nailed him in the forehead. Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, she dodged around him and out the door. She pounded down the hall and headed for the stairs. She could hear him stalking behind her, and she sped up. She bounded down the stairs and slipped halfway, falling down end over end. Once she hit the floor, she got up painfully and rubbed her ankle. It was probably sprained. She shot up and dashed to the door. She pushed it open, forgetting the keys to the car; there was no time to hunt for them tonight. It was pouring out, and the rain ran down her body as she sped down the street, her ankle throbbing violently. But she kept running, down the street, her mind racing.

  
_"Whenever you need me...I'm here."_

She ran to the pay phone and dialed up that certain someone's number. The phone rang and rang, but no one answered. She slammed the phone down and sobbed, her tears intermingling with the rain as she just cried for what seemed like three or so minutes. She suddenly felt a bit of weight on her shoulder and turned around. Yamcha was standing there, bare-chested with only his slacks on. She sized him up and found he wasn't wearing any shoes either. She put her hands up around her shoulders and realized the weight she felt was his jacket that he had draped there.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, undaunted by the rain.

"I could ask you the same thing." she shivered. "And you don't even have any shoes on!"

"Heh. Stop being such a mother hen. I have a bit of a cold anyways." he smirked.

"Do you want your little cold to become full-blown pneumonia?" she lectured, wagging her finger.

"You worry too much."

"Maybe I do."

"Well, ease up. Worrying will give you premature wrinkles."

She punched him lightly and glared, but eased up.

"Let's go back to my place. You look a bit chilled." he said, putting an arm around her and smiling as they walked together to his place. 

Bulma wanted to run, to flee in case Vegeta was coming; but Yamcha kept grabbing her by the arm and slowing her down. He pushed open the door to his house and stepped inside. He took back his soaking jacket and hung it up on the coat rack, smiling at Bulma. Bulma didn't notice though, she was too busy panicking about what Vegeta would do when she got back home...if he didn't follow her and take her back by force, that is. Yamcha frowned and looked at her.

"What's...wrong?" he asked. 

She said nothing but instead looked up at him with an aggrieved face. He blinked and slung a hand around her shoulder and pulled her close. 

"Look, why don't you go use the bathroom next to my bedroom and take a nice, warm bath to relax."

"That sounds good...but what will I wear? My clothes are soaked..."

"I'm pretty fond of the birthday suit you have..." he said, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

Bulma glared up at him, and he laughed. "I'm kidding...you can borrow a pair of my pajamas. Now just go and relax." he smirked, letting go and watching her disappear up the stairs. 

He was so close to her...and yet so far from what he desired. The way the dress clung to her when she first came in, the way it showed every curve of her body... He groaned, feeling a warm throbbing sensation in his groin. The blood pounded, and he moaned again. He wanted her so badly. But he knew he couldn't have her. The first time was only a fluke. It was blind luck. This time, he wouldn't get so lucky. He let out a sigh and collapsed in a chair, resting his eyes and slipping off into a peaceful nap.

~*~

Up in the bathroom, Bulma sat easily in the tub, letting the warm waters massages her aching muscles. She was tired and needed a good, stress-free rest. She didn't feel as sick as she had earlier on and she was glad. Half of it was probably just the anxiety, anyways. Her ankle hurt like holy hell and she flinched every time she moved it. She lifted it out of the water and saw why. It had swollen up pretty bad. It was only most likely sprained, but with her luck, it was probably broken. _No... that isn't possible. I can still walk on it...just a sprain_, she told herself. She sighed and relaxed, thinking of the past days. Vegeta was growing increasingly violent and restless and it bothered her. No, not bothered, it _frightened_ her. And now that she had a baby to take care of... She rubbed her stomach, feelings of fear creeping in. She shook it off and stood up, stepping out of the bath. She wrapped a towel around her body and walked downstairs. She saw Yamcha sleeping in the easy chair and shook him lightly. He sleepily opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Hey...that's right. I still gotta get you yer clothes, huh?" he said jadedly.

She said nothing but nodded, and followed him up the stairs. He dug through his clothes drawers and pulled out a pair of pale blue pajamas.

"They might be a little big for you but...it's the best I can do." he said with a faded smile.

"It's okay." she said. "Um...do you mind?" she said, raising her eyebrows. 

He nodded and turned around, looking away. She got dressed quickly, not wanting to give him any kind of peep show. She tapped him on the shoulder and smiled as he turned around.

"You can sleep here in my room tonight. I don't mind." he spoke quickly.

"But...where are you going to sleep?" she blinked, put off by his sudden tone.

"It's a big bed." he smirked.

"You know where that will probably lead..." she warned.

"That's the point." he grinned.

Bulma laughed short and whacked him playfully. He smiled back and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'll...just sleep on the couch." he declared. 

He got up and turned down the sheets, ushering Bulma in. He covered her up and smiled, giving her a small kiss on the cheek. 

"Sweet dreams, good night, don't let the bedbugs bite." he said in a sing-song, closing the door and heading downstairs. 

Bulma couldn't repress the tiny laugh that crept up on her. Whenever she was with Yamcha, she felt so...light-hearted. It was his boyish nature that made her forget everything. And that was what she needed. To forget...

~*~

Yamcha trekked down the stairs and collapsed on his favorite chair. Screw the damn couch; he was comfy sitting in the chair. He pulled down a blanket and snuggled up. He nearly had a heart attack when Pu'ar floated over and curled up on his lap.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"Nothing...Well, actually..." he started.

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you go upstairs and keep Bulma company. She's probably sleeping, but I have this feeling that tonight is gonna be a long night."

"Okay." she smiled, getting up and floating up the stairs, casting him one long glance.

Yamcha sighed and closed his eyes. Right now, he wanted to be alone. But what he wanted was never in his grasp. Ten minutes later, Bulma came down the stairs and shook him awake.

"Hnnn? What?" he muttered, half asleep.

"I...I...can't sleep."

He smiled and pet his lap. "C'mere." he said.

Bulma didn't hesitate and crawled up on to his lap. She snuggled against him and relaxed, feeling very comfortable except for a slight bulge in his pants pressing against her legs, but she ignored it. 

"What's going on with you and Vegeta?" he asked.

"Huh? N-nothing."

"No. I want the truth. I hate being lied to."

"I...we...well, our marriage has hit a hiccup, so to speak." she finally decided.

"A hiccup? You looked terrorized to death when I found you."

"I...Vegeta can be...scary at times. I needed a break."

"He isn't hurting you, is h--"

"No."

Yamcha looked at her skeptically. 

Damn. Bulma thought. _I answered too quickly..._ She looked at him, and was greeted by a warm smile.

"It's all good. I won't pry." he smiled. 

She could tell he wanted to know, but she didn't feel like explaining anything. They laid together, just the two of them, in the quiet darkness.

"Couldn't you just...stay here forever?" Bulma sighed, half asleep.

Yamcha said nothing response, so she poked him a few times.

"Hmmm? Oh...well, not really. I have a spring poking me in the ass and it's really bugging me." 

"I know how you feel." she joked. 

She caught his blush and laughed about it, reaching up to play with his hair. 

"Then let's go lay on the couch." he whispered.

"I'm for it." he said. 

He scooped her up and carried her to the couch and cuddled down, dragging a blanket over the two of them. He pulled her close and held her until he could hear her soft, even breathing of slumber. He picked her up and carried her upstairs. He pulled down the covers and tucked her in. Pu'ar was sleeping soundly and he didn't want to wake her. he went back downstairs for some shut-eye. He sprawled on the couch, stretching his legs and slinging his hand over his face and dozing off.

****

**__**

Cherry: Aw, what a kawaii ending, ne? I thought so. Well, gotta run1 catch you next chapter!


	6. Sorrow

**__**

Cherry: Whoot! Last of the next three chapters is up! I'll update soon, but only if I get some more reviews. It's a scratch my back and I'll scratch yours sort of deal. So remember to review, people!

****

Yamcha was shaken rudely awake once again halfway through the night. The rain was coming down still, and the living room was dark. Moreover, _he_ was there. Vegeta. His arms were crossed and a look of pure malevolence was smeared across his face. He glared down at the human with intense hate. Yamcha froze when he realized who it was. Vegeta took a few steps and grabbed Yamcha by the throat and lifted him up.

"Well, if it isn't the earth scum. Now...you know why I'm here, don't you?"

Yamcha tried to respond, but his voice froze in his throat. All he could do in response was shake his head a bit from side to side. Vegeta growled and threw him forcefully against the wall. He strode over and intertwined his fingers in Yamcha's hair, lifting him up so they were eye-to-eye. Vegeta frowned and slammed Yamcha's face into the wall. Twice. Blood gushed out of Yamcha's nose like a fountain. Vegeta snarled and punched him several times, holding back very little. Sanguine trickles of red drizzled out from the corners of Yamcha's mouth. Vegeta brought his knee up forcefully into Yamcha's gut, turning the docile dribble of blood into a violent spray. Vegeta looked in disgust at the blood Yamcha had spewed all over his pants.

"Those were my best damn pants, you miserable slime mold!" he roared, slamming Yamcha against the wall again. 

Vegeta panted, seeming content. Yamcha flinched, pain roaring throughout his weak body.

"Now...that woman of mine wouldn't happen to be staying here, would she?" he asked, placing his foot ominously on Yamcha's throat.

"No, she isn't...search...the house...if you...want..." he choked.

Vegeta deliberated a bit, like he was deciding whether he would take the offer or not. He kicked Yamcha one more time and turned away, heading for the door. He paused and looked over his shoulder.

"I will take my leave but...if I ever catch you with my wife...you _will_ die." 

He slammed the door behind him and Yamcha heaved a painful sigh of relief. He shifted slightly, white-hot pain invading his senses. He pulled his knees up to his chin and curled up in a ball, falling into a painful, tortured sleep.

*

He was shaken awake again the next morning, but he didn't want to get up. He opened his scarred eye slightly, taking the figure of Bulma into account. He opened both of his eyes slightly and smiled at her. She looked at him with her mouth agape. She dropped down next to him and gasped when she saw the front of his pajamas stained a crimson red.

"W-what happened?" she squeaked 

He looked at her and shifted slightly, a bolt of pain striking his body. He winced, shaking off the pain and smiling feebly. 

"Oh, damn! Musta had a helluva dream for me to smash myself up like this." he feigned.

She looked at him with skeptically. "That was the lamest excuse I've ever heard."

"I dunno...I heard some pretty lame ones from you." he retorted.

Bulma froze. She just realized how lame and crappy her excuses must've sounded.

He laughed. "Don't worry." 

He stood up painfully, every inch of his body screaming with anguish. 

"C'mon. Let's go get some breakfast." he said, hobbling out to the kitchen. 

She stood up and followed him numbly. She sat down as he heated up a pan of milky pops. Outside, it was still drizzling. She sighed and put her chin in her hands, gazing off into space. She was snapped out of her trance when a loud scream sliced the silence in two.

"_AAAAAAARRRRRGGGG!!!!! OH FUCK!!!!! IT BURNS!!!!!!!"_

Bulma whipped around to see Yamcha clutching his hand, which was throbbing and red-hot.

"What is it??? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just fine. Let me get the pan."

He reached over for the pan and grabbed the burning handle and hung onto it. There was some muted hissing as tendrils of steam coiled up from Yamcha's palm.

"Um...Yamcha?" she said, raising a finger.

"Yes?"

"Your...hand..."

He looked down at his hand and stared at it for about ten seconds before letting out a pained yell.

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! THE AGONY!!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"_

He dropped the pan and blew on his red hand for the second time. Bulma sighed and shook her head. Yamcha's eyes watered as he shook his hand. He seemed to settle and reached out for the pan a third time. Bulma leapt up and slapped the back of his hand.

"No!" she scolded.

"Ow...what the..? How'm I gonna get the pan off the stove then?" he asked, rubbing his hand.

"Ever hear of a pot-holder?" she said exasperatedly.

"Psssht... Potholders are for chicks. And I'm alllll male." he smirked.

He grabbed the pan and poured the mixture into two mugs. He handed one to Bulma and set the other on the table. Bulma looked at him with shock.

"It didn't hurt...this time?" she asked.

"No... not really. I think the second time burned the nerve endings off." he replied, taking a small sip from his mug. Bulma shook her head and sighed, looking out the window.

"You...gonna go back?"

"Back?"

"Back to Vegeta."

Bulma nearly choked on her milky pops.

"No."

"You have to. Things will only get worse if you stay...especially if he finds you here..."

Bulma looked down at the mug and sniffled, her eyes watering. "I know but...I'm just so scared." she whispered, tears dripping from her eyes. 

One landed in her mug, sending tiny ripples across the white sea of milk. Yamcha sat down next to her and pulled her up on his lap. He took away her glass and set it down, snuggling her close.

"Just go back. Vegeta will forgive you. I know this. He may be an ass but...he loves you." Yamcha choked. 

It was very hard to admit this and it made him want to cry. An involuntary tear dripped from his face and fell to Bulma's cheek. She looked up at him, and all of a sudden, felt bad for the poor man. He was just so heartbroken... She snuggled with him and stroked his face in an attempt to comfort him.

"You're right. I need to go back. If I stay...Vegeta will hurt you again...and I just can't bare it."

"Plus, you have the little one to take care of..." Yamcha whispered, rubbing her stomach. 

Bulma wiped away a tear and smiled, placing her slender hands over Yamcha's big, strong hands and began to feel all emotional and teary, like she just wanted to break out and sob. So she did. She buried her face in his chest and began to sob loud, echoing, wails. Yamcha hung onto her and slowly felt his grip on his emotions loosening. This was too much for him as well. He didn't want to lose her, but he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. He enshrouded his face in her hair and began to cry. He couldn't hide it as well as she could, though. His chest, which Bulma's face was resting on, heaved fiercely as he took in large, gulping breaths while he sobbed. His voice was much louder and deeper, even the softest sobs sounding like bellowing hyperventilation. Tears spilled down like an inclement storm. Never had he felt so emotional. But so many things had happened, that he just couldn't help it. They sat there for quite sometime, just crying together, venting their harbored emotions without shame.

****

**__**

Cherry: *sipping milky pops* Mmmmm....you have to try amking this sometimes. All it basically is is some heated milk and cream. Very soothing and relaxing at stressful times, such as when your teachers decide to give you mounds of homework......

**__**

Kuro: *snorts* Sissy.

**__**

Cherry: Well excuse me if I don't get hammered and forget about my work. I am dedicated, dammit!

**__**

Kuro: Dedication's for wussies.

**__**

Cherry: It is not. End of story. Now, remember children, it isn't the fall that kills you; it's the landing!


	7. Confrontation

**__**

Cherry: Here's the next three chapters. Sorry for the delay, but with MEAs (a big, irritating test-type thing) and, of course, homework, I haven't had much time to work on my fics....so be grateful! It would be nice to have more reviews, but I have to thank Thomas Drovin for at least taking the effort to type out a review at the end of each installment...

**__**

Kuro: Oh, don't bitch. At least you have three reviews. You forget Monkey_Tailed reviewed too.

**__**

Cherry: Ah, yeah...sorry. But anyway, I don't own DBZ (for the seventh time) nor will I ever. Now, enjoy!

****

Bulma slowly opened the door to her house, stepping in warily and letting the door shut behind her. Her heart ached so bad. The confusion and strife of the past week made her want to scream, cry, and just die all at once. When she had left Yamcha's, he was still crying, every so often stopping to wipe the tears away from his face; making a new attempt each time to not burst out crying. Like it actually worked; each time it seemed twice as many tears came as before. But despite Bulma's offers to stay and calm him down, he just smiled weakly and told her to go. They both finally agreed this was for the better, and that things had to end before one of them ended up dead. He looked like he was trying not to sob as she turned and left, and he was failing worse than before. He had tears running down his face as she turned around and ran down the street. She didn't look back once for she knew that if she did, she would never go back home. 

She went over and sat down on the couch, rubbing her temples. Today had just been too much for her to handle. She was almost glad to be back home, in a place that was familiar to her senses. But it wasn't a good kind of familiar, she decided as she thought about Vegeta, and felt her happiness ebb away. Bra suddenly came bounding in, Trunks following close behind.

"Mama! Where have you been? We've missed you!" Bra said, squiggling into Bulma's lap.

Trunks sat down next to her and looked her in the eyes. "Ma?" he asked.

She shook her head and smiled. "I...was on a little vacation." she answered slowly.

"That's what Papa said..." Bra spoke, grinning at the reassurance. She kissed Bulma lightly on the cheek and smiled, scuttling off to go and play. Trunks, however, remained. He looked his mother in the eyes and frowned.

"Ma.... what's going on?" he asked sternly.

"Nothing, Trunks. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Tell me. I'm old enough to handle things. I can take anything you tell me."

"No!" she shrieked. "No! There's nothing wrong! Nothing! I just needed a break from everything, that's all. A little vacation..."

"You're having problems with dad again, aren't you?"

Bulma stroked Trunk's face. "No, no... It'll be all right...." she said.

"I wish you wouldn't talk down on me. I'm not a baby. Tell me what happened, _now_." 

Bulma's lips trembled and tears formed. She frowned and sighed.

"I...yes. Your father and I are just in a spat right now, but everything will be okay. I promise."

Trunks digested this, and seemed to accept it. "Did...are you having an affair?" he asked.

"What???" Bulma asked.

"I just see it on TV and in the movies so..." 

"Well, this is real life, not a movie. I am _not_ having an affair, and we'll be all right. Just you wait and see." she assured him. Trunks nodded and wandered off, seeming satisfied. 

Bulma put her face in her hands and sighed. She hated lying to her own kids but they would never fully understand what was going on, so it was better for them to be in the dark on this issue. 

"Well, woman...where were you?" 

Bulma snapped her head up and looked through tear-blurred eyes at Vegeta. He glowered at her with his arms crossed. He snarled at her, a horrible look of malevolence spread across his face. 

"Come up stairs with me." he demanded.

Bulma shuddered; this was something that would not end well. She followed him up the stairs and into the bedroom, her heart pounding. She stood shyly and meekly near the side of the bed as he slammed the door. 

"Where were you?" he interrogated.

"I...was over at..." if she told Vegeta she had been at Yamcha's, he would beat the fuck out of her and then kill Yamcha, making it as painful as possible. "I was at Chi-chi's. I was visiting." she declared.

"You walked all the way out there that night? In the rain?" he interrogated.

"No... I took a Capsule plane." she declared.

"None were missing, woman"

"How would you know??? Do _you_ take inventory???" she screamed defensively. 

Vegeta closed his eyes and frowned. "I hate to do this but..." He hit Bulma across the face with stunning force. "...But this is the only way you'll learn! Learn that I'm in charge!" he hit her again and again, slapping her silly. "This is for your own good...." he hissed. 

He removed his belt from around his waist and folded it, snapping it against the air. 

"Papa?" came a small voice. 

Vegeta snarled and dropped the belt. He took on a caring air and turned around, facing the door.

"What is it, sweetie?" he asked.

Bra popped her head in and smiled. Bulma turned around and pretended she was looking for something under the bed. Her daughter didn't need to see her tear-stained, and probably red and bruised as well, face. Vegeta smiled at his daughter, approaching the door.

"Papa...could you tuck me in? Mama looks sorta busy, so..." she asked, cast a glance at her mother.

"I'll be there in a moment, dear." he told her. The minute Bra disappeared, Vegeta whipped around and grabbed Bulma by arm, wrenching her up to his eye level. He glared directly into her eyes and snarled. 

"Listen wench, you put one toe out of line, and I will beat you until you can no longer stand. Do you understand me?" he demanded.

"Yes...." she sobbed. "Yes.... just please...go..."

Vegeta stomped out, still fuming. Bulma whimpered softly, wanting to tell someone what was happening and to help her, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. She began to cry, feeling so helpless. Things just couldn't go on like this, not while she was carrying a baby. She reached over and picked up the phone sitting on her bedside table and dialed up a familiar number; a number that had served her well in the past.

"Yo?"

"Yamcha! Oh, thank Kami you're home!" she sobbed into the receiver.

"What? What happened? Bulma?" Yamcha asked, his voice sounding wound up and worried. "This better not be a damned discussion on what color pumps you should wear with your dress..." he tried to joke.

"Kami, no! Oh.... Vegeta's lost it. He was really tweaked when I came home. He...he says it's to put me in my place and to establish his role, but I--" she babbled.

"Wait, back up. What is 'it'?"

Bulma froze. She hadn't told him about Vegeta hitting her. The silence was long enough for Yamcha to guess on his own.

"He hit you, didn't he?"

"No... no... he..."

"He did, right?"

"No!" she yelled. But then she got silent, knowing that although she could fool her young, she could not fool Yamcha. "Yes."

"Dammit! I knew it! I knew he was doing that to you...." he growled.

"Yamcha...don't get angry. Standing up for me will only get you killed...." she whimpered.

"I can't just sit here while he beats you up!" he yelled.

"No... I shouldn't have bothered you...I should have just sat here and minded my own business."

"No... calling me was the best thing you could do."

"Yamcha...please don't--"

She was cut off abruptly as Vegeta yanked the receiver out of her hands.

"What the hell are you doing???" he screamed at her, clutching the receiver in a deathgrip.

"I...I...I...was just talki--"

Vegeta smacked her again.

"Dammit! What about the talk we _just _had???" he asked, smacking her again. 

Bulma began to cry uncontrollably. "I...I'm sorry..

Vegeta looked at the receiver with distaste and crushed it in grip. He picked up the belt and advanced on Bulma, a horrible look in his eyes....

~*~

Yamcha blinked, looking at his phone. The ending of the conversation did not sound good. The loud yell, the sound of a stinging slap and the sobs...Good god, Bulma was in for it. Yamcha hung up the phone numbly, blinking as he realized what he had to do. He neglected to throw on his jacket and shoes as he ran to the front door, shoving it open. At least it wasn't raining this time.

"Yamcha...where are you going?" Pu'ar asked, floating out to the kitchen, casting a anxious glance at him. 

"Somewhere. I'll be back soon!" he yelled as he bolted. There was no time for any explanations, either.

His feet pounded the pavement as he ran down the distance to Bulma's house. More than once he stepped on something sharp that cleaved the skin on his soles, but he didn't stop; he couldn't. Pain has long since ceased to be an object to him. He panted, feeling like he was too old to be running around like this. He put on the speed as he turned a corner and...

****

::CRASH::

He slammed slap-bang into Bulma. He got up and looked down at her. She looked up at him with a tear-stained face full of fear and scrabbled up, hiding behind him.

"Oh, Kami...don't let him get me..." she wailed.

"Wh-what? Who? Vegeta?" he asked, confused. 

Bulma hid behind him, burying her face in his clean white shirt, wrinkling the back and soaking it with her tears. The he saw _him_. Vegeta. He was walking slowly, a blank expression on his face. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth the moment he saw Yamcha; that was his typical response to Yamcha's presence. But this time there was something more to his glare. It was almost murderous. Vegeta snarled, speeding up his stiff walk. Yamcha felt his heart go weak, and his mind raced through the list of options: run, faint, piss pants...his mind finally settled on 'stay and defend Bulma.' He stuck his arms out protectively and glared back at Vegeta. The saiyajin prince stopped and crossed his arms.

"Move, earth scum." he growled. It wasn't a request, it was a command.

Yamcha swallowed hard. "No. I won't let you hurt her anymore."

"Move if you value your life."

The danger he was in was making his 'run for your life' senses go crazy. He swallowed the lump in his throat and responded in a clear voice. "Never." 

Vegeta pulled his hand back, energy crackling around his knuckles. He snarled and then dropped his hand.

"You aren't worth my time." he said, turning away. "Woman...when you want to come back, then we'll talk. Until then...do as you please." he said, a little too calm for comfort.

Yamcha tensed his fists as he watched Vegeta's figure retreat. 

"I'll come with you." he said to Bulma.

She walked out in front of him and looked at him sorrowfully. "Please...go home. I don't want you getting hurt. Vegeta was clam now, but he won't hold back for long. He is strong enough to kill you in an instant. Just...go. I don't want to cause you anymore pain...emotional or physical." she whispered, burying her face in his chest. Yamcha embraced her and nuzzled his face in her hair.

"I think I may be dead inside. You can't do anything more." he muttered.

"Dead inside? If you come, you'll be dead on the outside too!" she screamed.

"I don't care." he muttered. "It just doesn't matter anymore."

Bulma finally conceded and allowed Yamcha to carry her back to her house. She was still sobbing as he carried her up the stairs and set her on the bed. He sat down and glared at Vegeta, who was standing with his arms crossed in the corner of the room.

"What are _you_ doing here, earth scum?" he snarled.

Yamcha swallowed hard. "I'm here to make sure you don't hurt Bulma. Call me a bodyguard."

Vegeta twitched and snorted. "_Fine._" he said, stomping his foot.

"Vegeta, please...I want the suffering to stop. Just...let this go. It was a one-night stand. There's nothing between us." she said, gesturing to Yamcha.

Vegeta's face was slowly turning red.

Yamcha felt his heart being torn in two. The way she said it, without any emotion... Was he being foolish, thinking there was still a spark left of their flame? He looked over at Bulma and saw the tears running down her face. She did care, it was hard...he felt warm trickles running down his cheeks as well. He sniffed and looked on blankly.

"She's right. It was nothing. I...can get excited at times. It wasn't her fault, she had no say...I just..." he stumbled, hastily trying to cover.

"So it was rape? You seduced my wife?" Vegeta demanded, stepping up towards Yamcha.

"Uh...well..." Yamcha muttered.

"No… don't listen to him...he's sheltering me. We both had an equal part in this." she confessed.

"Bulma..." Yamcha muttered, casting a backwards glance at her.

"Great." Vegeta said sarcastically, "So in my house I have a slut who can't keep her legs together and her male prostitute companion. This is just fabulous. And the kicker is...I'm married to the slut, as in she is my mate..." he growled, clenching his fists. Blood seeped down his wrists as he tried to restrain himself.

"Vegeta...let's just forget about this...I have a baby now, it will bring us closer...we can't mess things up. Think of the baby and its life..." she coaxed.

"Yeah, Vegeta...think of your kid." Yamcha said, flashing the saiyajin a weak smile.

"Yes...another mouth to feed." he muttered darkly.

"Vegeta...can't you just...see the bright side of things..." she sobbed.

"What bright side? Is there even a bright side to your tramping? I bet that kid is _his_." he snarled, looking at Yamcha with intense hatred. "That filthy scum...that baby will be lower than _he_ is. Why? Because it is a horrid child derived from your sleeping around and fucking random men!!!!!" Vegeta screamed, winding his hand back. 

He brought it down forcefully and a slap rang out in the air, loud and furious. Bulma opened her eyes slowly, confused by the lack of pain and impact, gently rubbing her cheek. Nothing. She looked up, puzzled, and saw what had happened. Yamcha was standing up in front of her, a crimson handprint on his un-scarred cheek. He grabbed it and dropped into a painful crouch, wincing.

"Is…that...the best you...can do? I've been hit by harder pillows...." he muttered, blood seeping out the corner of his mouth and his nose, pain roaring through his jaw.

Vegeta lost it. This was enough. No more. He punched Yamcha as hard as he could, hitting him over and over. Yamcha lashed out at him a few times in defense, but his blows had no effect against the beating he was receiving. Bulma grabbed Vegeta and he whipped around, knocking her in the teeth and sending her flying into the wall. Yamcha felt energy surge through his veins...and a warm, protective instinct possessed his being. He snarled, the room spinning. He screamed out a war cry and tackled Vegeta. Vegeta stumbled out of his grasp and tripped...right out the window. Yamcha settled down and gaped in horror at what he had done. 

Both he and Bulma ran to the window and gazed down. Vegeta was lying on the ground...and he wasn't moving. Bulma felt her heart leap into her throat. Yamcha was mortified. They both stood, gripping each other's hands until Vegeta twitched, and then got up. He glared up at them and drifted back up, perching on the windowsill. He glowered furiously as the pair backed up and sat on the bed, Yamcha embracing Bulma, just in case. Vegeta snarled, extremely unhappy.

"Get out of my house, earth scum. Leave before I separate your head from your neck. _NOW_." he threatened, hopping down off the sill and advancing towards the two.

"No. I can't leave Bulma..." he said, fear pumping through his veins. "I want to protect her."

"Fine. So this is how things will end..." he muttered. 

Things went by so fast, Yamcha had no idea what was happening. Despite the speed at which the events occurred, it all seemed to play out in slow-mo. Vegeta held out his hand, pulling it back into a fist. There was a brief area of blankness, but the next thing Yamcha knew, he was laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a sudden burst of pain and burning-hot warmth accompanied with a flash of bright light. There was screaming, lots of screaming. His own voice singing out in pain along with the terror of another. After a second sharp pain, it all went black for Yamcha as his senses faded away....

****

**__**

Cherry: That's the end of chapter seven. Reviewers are loved. Anyone? Please?


	8. Close Quarters

**__**

Cherry: This chapter was written mainly for comic relief....even if it does start out a little, well, not happy.

**__**

Kuro: Wow, 'not happy' how descriptive. Not.

**__**

Cherry: Hush you! I told you, I used all my intelligence on the MEAs!

**__**

Kuro: Feh. it's all excuses with you, isn't it?

**__**

Cherry: But they happen to be good excuses! And true at that. Now, I don't own DBZ or the characters, just the situations I put them in. -nods-

****

He woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright. Pain, like an iron rod being jammed through his skull, surged through his head. He howled in pain and grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he waited for the shockwaves of pain to subside. Pu'ar all of a sudden came rushing in and pushed Yamcha back down, sponging a large bump on his forehead with a wet cloth. He panted as he clutched his head tighter despite Pu'ar's attempts to pry his hands away. Yamcha groaned loudly, feeling very close to throwing up. Pu'ar shushed him, stroking his face.

"There, there...just lay down, Yamcha." she whispered softly.

He flopped down again and threw a hand over his face. "Ow...what happened?"

"You don't know?" she blinked, "I just came in and....you were laying sprawled across the couch."

"Oh..." he said, rubbing his temples. 

Pu'ar smiled nervously. "Have a rough night?"

"Yeah...you could say that." he muttered, "How long've I been out?" he asked.

"Hmmm…I found you just about a day ago." she said. "You were out cold, so I figured I'd let you rest. I'm glad you're up now." Her smiled turned from worried to relieved.

The deep knot in Yamcha's stomach loosened, but the feeling of nausea remained. Pu'ar smiled and turned away. 

"I'm going out to the kitchen now. I think I'll make you some soup. You look hungry."

Yamcha nodded weakly as she left, his stomach chewing away at itself. the last thing he remembered was being by Bulma's side, ready to defend her; refusing to leave and then...Vegeta. His leering face, his horrible visage packed with murderous rage...he didn't want to know what had happened. He felt a shiver run through his spine just thinking about the possibilities. 

He grunted, feeling very, very, _very_ sick. He clamped a hand over his mouth as he felt a bitter taste rise up in his throat. He stumbled off the couch, making a bee-line for the bathroom. He kicked open the door and dropped down in front of the toilet, puking his guts out. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears seeping out the corners as his stomach retched heavily in an attempt to expel it's contents. He wheezed, the first wave coming to an end. He slowly opened his eyes, a blanket of horror settling in his veins. Everything...was red. It was like a crimson tide, everything covered in blood. He wiped off his chin and looked down. A carmine streak stretched across the back of his hand. This was _not_ good. He grabbed the handle of the toilet, closing his eyes as he flushed it three times in a row. _I didn't see that; it was just a hallucination. Everything will be alright when I open my eyes again...no blood. It was just a macabre illusion,_ he told himself. Before he could open his eyes, he felt a second wave sweep in. Once again he leaned over the bowl, retching until his sides hurt. There was no blood the second time, and he felt slightly better. _There...just an hallucination. You were just imagining it all. No blood this time...nothing. It just wasn't real. No worries,_ he reassured himself. He flushed the toilet for the final time, standing up shakily. He stumbled back into the living room, collapsing across the couch. He moaned, feeling pain wreak havoc on his lower half. His muscles burned and ached agonizingly. Vegeta must have hit him harder than he had originally thought. _He's a saiyajin; even a tap could nearly kill you. He went easy on you compared to what he *could* have done. Consider yourself lucky he only seriously bruised you pitiful bod,_ he thought. He opened his eyes slightly, the first sight he saw being Pu'ar's face. She looked down at him with a worried smile.

"Feeling under the weather, huh? You still want the soup?" she asked.

"Yeah...I'm fine, just a little queasy. Soup...would be good. Very good." he mumbled.

Pu'ar nodded and drifted out without a sound. He closed his eyes and sighed. He wondered what had happened after Vegeta had knocked him out. The fact he had puked up blood certainly unnerved him; it was not a good sign. He sighed again, telling himself that it had passed and Vegeta must have just hit him hard. He was fine now, but still worried. What had happened to Bulma? Was she okay? Was she hurt? Or worse, did Vegeta kill her? No, he didn't think Vegeta would stoop so low; but he _did_ seem mad... 

He sighed, exhausted. Pu'ar floated back in with a bowl of egg noodle soup, smiling kindly. 

"Here you go. I hope you feel better soon." she whispered.

"So don't I..." he muttered.

Pu'ar smiled and floated down, curling up on Yamcha's lap and purring softly. He stroked her back, between taking sips of his soup. All of a sudden, he seemed more comfortable and soothed. For a fleeting moment, he had no worries. He wasn't a has-been fighter that fucked the wrong guy's wife; he was just a guy with his cat. He finished off his soup and set the bowl down on the floor next to the couch. He did feel a small pang of worry in his gut when he thought about Bulma, but he pushed it away since it wasn't really his area of business.

*

The rest of the day, he sat around and watched TV, trying not to worry about what Vegeta could do to Bulma if he got angry enough. He went up to bed early around 7:00, but at about three in the morning, there came a fierce pounding at the door. Yamcha sluggishly rolled out of bed and thromped down the stairs lazily. The knocking was becoming more aggravated and louder by the second. Yamcha thought that the door was going to be knocked off the hinges if whoever was pounding at the door kept it up. He hurriedly fumbled with the lock on the door, and when he finally got it unhooked...

****

::_BLAM::_

The door swung open forcefully, flattening Yamcha against the wall. Bulma came storming in, carrying a duffel bag full of stuff.

"I can't take it, I can't take it, I can't take it! I just can't take anymore! I can't stand him! I just can't!" she wailed, throwing her bag on the couch and sitting down next to it, sobbing loudly. 

The door bounced off the wall and swung open s-l-o-w-l-y and latched shut again, Yamcha plastered to the back. He slid down slowly, flopping onto the floor very animeishly. Yamcha managed to pull himself off the floor, still half-asleep. He scratched his chin and looked at Bulma.

"Mmm…whatcha doin' 'ere?" he muttered.

"I just can't stand Vegeta anymore! I cannot be in the same house as that man!" she screeched.

"Bulma, it's..." He looked up and over at the clock on the wall. "...three in th' mornin'. It's too early in for me to help you with your problems..." he said, rubbing his eyes.

"I don't _need_ you to solve my problems. You know the wonderful thing? I'm going to stay here, with you, for a few nights. I need some time away. Vegeta won't hurt you this time...I made sure of it."

Yamcha's eyes snapped open. "What? Stay with me? I...you can't! Where are you gonna sleep?"

"Easy. I'm going to go upstairs and sleep in your bed and we will talk more about this later on in the morning." she said casually.

"What? My house only has one bedroom, and_ one bed_. You know, the thing _I_ sleep in...." he said, now very much awake.

"I know. That's why you're going to be sleeping on the couch." she smiled at him.

"Wait...no. I am _not_ sleeping on the couch. It's uncomfortable and Bulma; it's only three in the morning. _Three in the morning_!" he protested. "I hate the couch! It hurts my back and there's a loose spring...."

"I know. That's why I'm occupying your bed for the night."

"I am NOT sleeping on the couch! Not tonight, I have had too much stress lately and I deserve a bed, dammit!"

"You think I have not had stress? You only have the odd encounter with Vegeta, I _have_ to live with him! I will _not_ sleep on the couch!!!!"

The yelling match went on like that for at least a good twenty minutes before a decision was finally made....

*

"Okay. You stay on your side of the bed, and I'll stay on mine."

Bulma was laying on the left side of the bed, and Yamcha on the right, a blanket running down the center separating the boundaries of each side. Yamcha reached over coyly, poking her lightly in defiance. He giggled stupidly and jabbed her again, shaking her a bit. Bulma clenched her fists, biting her lip. After about three more pokes she slammed her hands down.

"That's it!!! From now on, there's a _wall_ here!!! Got it???" she barked.

They remained silent for a while, before Yamcha reached over. "Wall huh? I see no wall here....." he laughed, jabbing Bulma in the ribs a few times. She swatted his hand away, getting frustrated.

"The wall is invisible, like a force-field, got it? _A three-foot-thick forcefield wall_!" she snapped.

"But if it's three feet thick...that would be almost the entire bed...." he pointed out.

"... ... ...Look, it's just indestructible, okay? And you may not see it, but _it's there_."

Yamcha smirked. "You didn't say how high it was!" he laughed, pouncing her. 

"Ugh!" she bellowed, shoving him off her and onto the floor. He emerged a moment later, the wastebasket on top of his head. He pulled it off and set it back down next to the bed, pouting at her.

"Fine! Be that way!" he said in a childish manner, sticking out his tongue as he circled back around. He flopped onto his side, and they were quiet for a bit before a smile crept across Yamcha's face.

"You didn't put a ceiling either!" he said, reaching over and shoving her playfully. She retaliated with a painful slap to his wrist again.

"There is a wall here, a wall here and a ceiling on top!" she declared, making motions with her hands to indicate the sides and ceiling of her invisible box.

Yamcha jabbed at her with his index finger. "You need air holes to breathe!"

"No air-holes! Did I say anything about air holes? No. So there aren't any!"

"You can't breathe...you have to hold your breath..."

"It's filled with oxygen!"

"You'll have to breathe it all eventually..."

"_Fine!_ There is no walls, no box, nothing!"

Yamcha grinned, shaking her, jabbing her, and shoving her. He was becoming increasingly frisky as he sniggered lustfully. Bulma slapped him in the face and forcefully pushed his arm away.

"Keep your damned hands to home!" she demanded.

Yamcha was quiet for a moment before he smirked and began nudging her with his foot, running it up and down her soft legs. She sighed heavily again and closed her eyes.

"Unless you'd like to end up a modern-day castrato, I'd suggest you leave me alone and go the hell to sleep." she said calmly. Yamcha stopped, drawing his foot back slowly and timidly. He rolled onto his side and stared at the ceiling with wide eyes.

"Well then...have a nice rest." Yamcha asked, still glaze-eyed.

Bulma smirked. "Good night and see you when I wake up."

****

**__**

Cherry: Ah, don't you remember the days when you were dragged on long car rides with younger siblings and had to tell them there was an invisible wall to get them to quit poking you?

**__**

Kuro: This chapter is pointless and stupid.

**__**

Cherry: it was more of a filler chapter anyways. But then again, that's what happens when you have MEAs and have to leave the chapter writing to your younger sister......

**__**

Kuro: -shudders- Urrg....please promise you won't do that _ever_ again?

**__**

Cherry: -reads the filler chapter- Ugh, I promise the next chapters will be 100% me-produced. I swear it.


	9. Breakfast Banter

**__**

Cherry: Although this is an uber-short chapter, it once again is for a bit of comedy. Though this time, _I_ was the one to write this, as opposed to the last one which I sorta wrote in part with my sister.... I think this one is much better but I could be biased; I am the writer, after all. Oh, and by the way, I DON'T own DBZ, nor does my sister.....

****

Bulma woke up the next morning, her hands resting on her chest. She rubbed her eyes with her left hand and yawned. She opened her eyes and noticed she still had two hands on her chest. She blinked, looking at the hand she used to rub her eyes, then to her hand on her chest. But that sill left the third hand... She looked over and saw Yamcha lying on his side, facing her. He reached up and cupped her face, smiling sleepily.

"Mornin' sweetie..." he said.

Bulma blinked and pulled away, leaping up suddenly. She looked at him as he yawned, rolling out of bed. She followed his movements as he pulled some clothes out of his drawer and then headed off down the hall towards the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go take a shower and get dressed. Take the time to wake up and get dressed yourself. If ya want a shower, I'll be out in fifteen..." he called.

Bulma shook her head. "No… I'm fine."

He shrugged. "Okay..." he said, walking into the bathroom. 

He shut the door behind him, the slam snapping Bulma out of her trance. She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts. The emotion she felt when she woke up next to him.... it was a warm, soothing feeling, one of comfort and kindness. To wake up and breathe in his scent, the musky, manly aroma...was beyond the joy of heaven itself. She sighed, pushing away the affectionate feelings that bubbled up as she usually did. Over in the corner was her duffel bag; Yamcha must have brought it up at some point. She walked over and pulled out her typical red dress. She took off yesterday's clothes that she had fallen asleep in and quickly pulled on her dress. She could still hear the shower going, and she knew Yamcha wouldn't be out for a while, but instinct pushed her to hurry along. Once fully dressed, she headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. She started up the coffee machine and brewed herself up a pot she poured herself a cup, liberally adding sugar and creamer. She took a sip, taking some time to contemplate feelings.

~*~

Yamcha let the water beat down over his body as he showered, thinking back to when he first woke up. It was nice to wake up to Bulma's face in the morning; it was an experience that he hadn't felt in a long time. But he loved it; it made him feel warm and tingly. But he didn't want to grow attached; he couldn't. If he did, when she decided to leave...it would hurt more than it usually did whenever she left him alone. He sighed longingly, turning his face to the water spray. He knew Bulma would have to leave and go home at some time, maybe even less than in a week. But even having her for one night, if that was all he would get, made him happy. Even though she had broken his heart many times, he still loved her and always would. 

He turned off the shower and pushed aside the curtain, and stepping out and drying off hastily with a towel. He picked his clothes up from where he left them on top of the toilet seat and began to get dressed. He pulled on his yellow slacks over his boxer shorts and tugged his typical white shirt down over his ears, brushing out his messy dark hair before heading out. He pushed open the door, and went up the hall, popping his head into his bedroom. Upon finding Bulma was not there, he shrugged and made his way back down the hall to the kitchen. He saw her sitting there reading a sales flyer that must have come in the mail, an empty coffee cup sitting to her right. He moved over to the counter, pouring himself a cup of the coffee. He looked to Bulma, smiling slightly.

"Have a good sleep?" he asked, grinning smartly.

Bulma looked up at Yamcha. She hadn't noticed him when he first came in, nor when he poured himself the cup of coffee. She watched him add creamer and a bit of sugar and then sip at it, a sly smile painted across his face. She sighed; flicking her eyes up over the flyer as he took out the newspaper she had pulled the sales catalogue from.

"Yeah...I slept well." she responded.

She didn't want to bring up this morning's 'wake-up' incident in case he had a witty, smart, remark. She looked back down, reading through the sales on appliances, clothes, and decor. She needed to take her mind off things for now...

Yamcha looked longingly at Bulma over the top of his newspaper. The way she was leaned over, he could pretty much see down the front of her low-cut dress. He groaned silently, wanting so much more than a peek. He figured he'd have to settle for ogling for now, but he needed more of a... _view_. Bulma was occupied with her flyer, so... That's when he got a great idea. He reached over and knocked Bulma's coffee cup off the table, then snapped his paper back up. Bulma looked up suddenly and sighed at the coffee cup on the floor.

"I guess I'll get that, seeing as how you aren't getting up anytime soon." she muttered. 

She dropped down to the floor, bending over as she reached for the cup. Yamcha lowered his paper, letting his eyes lock onto her ass. Coupled with that short red dress she was wearing, he was getting quite an eyeful. He moaned to himself, feeling slightly horny. He kept chiding himself to look and not touch, but he wanted to smack her ass so bad. He grabbed his offending hand with the other and then sat on it to avoid a crisis. 

Bulma crawled about the floor, finally getting about a finger's length away from the cup. Not wanting this to end so soon, Yamcha stomped his foot down, causing the cup to roll off a few more feet. Bulma stopped and turned around just as Yamcha pulled his hands out and snapped up his paper. She glared at him with scrutiny.

"What was _that_ for?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh...damn sports scores..." he muttered.

Bulma sighed and turned back around. "You and your sports...honestly!" she said, reaching for the cup again. 

Yamcha lowered his paper and resumed ogling, drool running down his chin. He lapped his lips, looking unabashedly at Bulma's nice ass. He felt a shiver of pleasure run through his body, more through one part in particular than the rest. He shifted his legs, leaning over. He wanted to touch it...just a light tap, rub or pat...but he knew if he did, two things would happen. One: his cover would be blown, and two: Bulma would _kill_ him. So he settled for speculating and groaned, feeling _someone_ perk up for the occasion. Bulma finally retrieved the cup and stood up, her back to Yamcha.

"Got it!" she declared.

"Damn it all to Hell!" he yelled, snapping his fingers.

Bulma whipped around and just stared at him. He had already snapped the paper back up and was now frowning in mock anger.

"I really, _really_ wanted that team to win...." he covered. Bulma seemed to buy all this and turned back around, washing out the cup and drying it off.

"Hey, where do you put the cups?" she asked.

Yamcha casually looked down from his newspaper and pointed up to a high cabinet. "Up there..."

Bulma sighed, pushing a chair over. She climbed up on it and stretched up to the cabinet, her short dress riding up her thighs. You can only imagine what this was doing to poor Yamcha's libido... he groaned, having to shift again, the lustful want growing stronger. It wasn't fair that he only got to look... 

Bulma put the cup away and climbed back down, replacing the chair. She sat back down and picked up her flyer. They were quiet a moment before she spoke up.

"But seriously...if you knock my cup off the table again, I will have to kill you."

Yamcha dropped his paper, dumbfounded and speechless. Bulma smirked to herself silently and continued to read....

****

**__**

Cherry: See? Uber-short. But no worries, the next chapter should be longer. I promise. ~_^ As always, reviews are loved......


	10. Rough Day, Rough Night

**__**

Cherry: Ooh, you readers got lucky this time! I actually added a fourth chapter, mainly in part because the last chappie was a bit short...^ ^; But anyways, I don't know how fast I'll get the upcoming chapters up or if they'll come in threes anymore, since I have so much work to do. but I'll try my damnedest. I promise. BTW, there IS a lemon in this chapter; rape to be precise, so if you don't want to read that sort of thing, skip the ending (the lemon's towards the end). 

**__**

Kuro: You know the drill; Cherry doesn't own DBZ or any of the affiliated characters.

****

The morning seemed to crawl by slowly and uneventfully. Yamcha was too timid to try another covert op to gain himself some ogling time. Bulma seemed to be more suspicious of him and his methods, too. Yamcha did, however, make the unfortunate mistake of reaching out and giving Bulma's ass a quick smack, as he was unable to contain his urges any longer. He didn't fully consider the consequences, thinking that it was only a little tap, and what harm could that cause? Bulma whipped around suddenly, a glare on her face.

"WHAT. WAS. THAT???" she growled, an enraged look plastered across her face.

Yamcha's face paled upon realizing what he had just done. 

"I...I...I...well, you see...I...I just couldn't stand it anymore! I _HAD_ to get one smack in…just a little tap...to take down the, you know, tension..."

"Oh? Is that all?" she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Well, then that means it would be okay for _me_ to get one slap in…to, you know, relieve the tension..." she smirked. 

Yamcha looked blank for a while, up until the point Bulma hauled off and smacked him, hitting him so hard he toppled off the chair he was sitting on. He stumbled back up, looking surprised and scared.

"Okay...no more of that, 'kay? I'll...I won't do that anymore, I promise! Really...don't hurt me..." he whimpered, cowering miserably. Bulma sighed and sat down.

"Although I am extremely pissed, I think I'll sit down and leave you alone. And you _better _not do anything like that again or, boy, you will be in a world of hurt. _Trust me_." she grumbled, giving him a death glare. 

He gulped again and nodded numbly, clambering back up into his chair, shaking slightly. He looked over at Bulma, still filled with longing. He would have to be more careful about how he went about things with Bulma. He drummed his fingers against the surface of the table, deep in thought.

"Will you _please_ stop that? It's very annoying." Bulma hissed through clenched teeth.

Yamcha stopped and looked at her. "Sorry." he blushed. He sighed and grinned at her. "Hey, whatcha say that to make up for things, I take ya out to eat?" he shot.

Bulma looked up. "Are you asking me out?"

"W-what? No…I just...well, sorta...I..."

Bulma laughed sharply. "Of course, I'd love to go out to eat. Your treat?"

"Duh!" he laughed, feeling relieved. 

She stood up, grabbing her handbag and starting towards the door. Yamcha leapt up and bolted out after her. He barreled out the car and pulled open the door to the driver's side and hoped in. He looked over to Bulma and smirked. He was determined to make things up to her and _not_ screw anything up. 

"Where ya wanna go? Somewhere fancy? Cafe? Fast food?"

"Urrrrg. No fast food. It goes straight to my hips. Nothing too fancy, I haven't been feeling too well and plus, I doubt you have that much money."

"Heh. My wallet has no limits for you."

Bulma rolled her eyes and laughed. "I don't know. I suppose we can just head to the local cafe. A cup of coffee and some lemon biscotti sounds nice."

"Hey, anything for you!" he beamed, shifting the car into gear. 

He wasn't thrilled by the sound of what people eat at Cafes; he could stand the coffee, but he didn't see what was so great about eating stale, lemon-flavored cookies with it. And for an entire _meal_? Blah. But he figured he'd suck it up for Bulma; he owed her. He parked outside of the cafe and hopped out of the car. He went around and popped open the passenger side door, helping Bulma out. Her tummy was just starting to dome out, though it wasn't to terribly noticeable. After all, it was only the fourth month. 

Yamcha smirked, poking at her stomach. 

"Gain a few pounds?" he teased. "Ah, maybe it's just something you ate." he joked, adding in a wink.

"Well, I don't recall ever swallowing a baby..." she teased back, poking him in the ribs.

He smirked and pushed open the door to the cafe. They walked together out to the verandah and sat down at a nice table in the shade.

"But seriously...does it show that much?" Bulma asked, looking down at her belly.

"Nah, not that much." Yamcha said, reaching over and giving her stomach a pat.

Bulma smiled. "Sure. I think it shows, and a lot at that." she muttered. "But I could just be biased."

Yamcha leaned back. "Well, in about five more months, you won't have to worry anymore, now will ya?" he said.

"Yeah..." she said, a faint smile surfacing. She looked down, a frown replacing the smile.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Yamcha asked, looking concerned.

"I just...every time this happens, I have a natural worry...a sort of concern."

"About what?"

"About...everything. The stress, the emotions...this isn't easy! I shouldn't be this way now that I've been through this twice, but I'm not. It seems to be worse when you know what's gonna happen..." she muttered.

Yamcha reached across the table and took Bulma's hand, giving it a small kiss. "I'll be there for you whenever you need it. No question. I promise."

Bulma smiled. She felt better, having some reassurance, even if it was from Yamcha. The waitress finally happened by, looking down at them.

"What will you have today?" she asked kindly.

"Green tea and lemon biscotti for me." Bulma said with a smile. 

Yamcha sighed heavily, shivering at the mere mention of the nasty little stale cookies.

"I'm just gonna have a mug of coffee and a jelly donut. I ain't too hungry."

The waitress nodded. "I'll be back in a moment with your order."

Bulma sighed, still looking down at her stomach. "Are you sure it--" she started.

"Yes! It doesn't show that much and you don't look fat, you look _fine_." he said, rolling his eyes. He glanced over at her. "Stop worrying. What did we just talk about? Chill, 'kay? We'll just eat our paltry little lunch and then get in the car and drive back home. Then we can just lay around and, you know, hang out." he said, trying to calm Bulma down. 

The waitress shuffled back, holding a tray with the food on it. She set it down and smirked.

"Here ya go. Hey, mind if I ask you two somethin'?" she inquired.

"Uh..." Yamcha hesitated.

"Sure..." Bulma smiled feebly.

"You two together?" she smiled.

Bulma was silent as she took her tea off the tray, taking a sip. Yamcha smiled, blushing slightly as he chomped on his jelly donut, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"Well...uh...sorta..." he muttered.

The waitress smiled. "A shy couple, huh? No big. I won't press it." she said, turning around and taking the tray with her as she swaggered back into the cafe.

They ate in silence for most of the time. Yamcha finished his donut, and started on his coffee, which he promptly burned his tongue on. He bit down on his lip to keep from yelping, and blew at the coffee to vainly try and cool it down. Bulma looked up from her tea and swilled her biscotti around in it. 

"Burn your tongue?" she catechized.

"I...I...well...Yeah." he muttered under his breath.

She laughed. "Well, don't slog it down so fast, then." she lectured. 

He blushed, looking down. _There she goes again. Always lecturing, always trying to make me feel bad about myself. Kami, why can't she just leave me alone sometimes?,_ he brooded, scowling slightly. 

"Oh, don't be so sour." she said with a slight smile. "You want to try one of my biscotti?" Bulma inquired, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Actually, my love, forcing one of those stale little cookies down my throat is the last thing I want to do, but... 

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" he muttered. Bulma handed him one of the cookies and he took it, staring at the phallic biscuit. He shivered, chomping down on it and quite nearly breaking a tooth in the process. 

"_Son of a_--" he snapped, yanking the cookie out of his mouth and clamping a hand to his aching jaw. He winced, his eyes watering slightly. "What the hell are in these things? _Cement?"_ he lamented.

Bulma laughed again. "No, no. You're supposed to let them soak in your drink first. They're a bit stiff otherwise." she said in her cute little 'I-know-everything-and-you-are-an-idiot' voice.

Yamcha dipped the cookie in the coffee, letting it grow swollen and mahogany-hued. _Sure, point out everything I do wrong and then laugh at me,_ he moped. _You generally warn people about the cookie from hell before they nearly crack a tooth on it._

He had started the day so happy and now... He couldn't quite explain why _he_ was getting so snappy. Perhaps it was the fact of the upcoming arrival. The 'little accident' that he had feared would happen each time he and Bulma had made careless love with caution thrown to the wind. Ironically, he had only worried when they were together, and nothing had happened. But now that they split, his worst fear had become confirmed. If this had happened when they were together, they would probably have never broken up. _We wouldn't have been able to. The baby would have taken priority. But no, it had to happen now_, he groused. He took a bite out of the now softened cookie and instantly regretted it. It was _the_ most disgusting thing he had _ever_ had. It was like stale lemons and old coffee, the kind that had been sitting for days on end and had time to grow thick and syrupy. He shoved the entire thing into his mouth and swallowed it quickly. He frowned, shivering slightly.

"Don't like it?" Bulma asked.

"Blah." he muttered, swigging down his coffee. 

Bulma sniggered. "Ah, I suppose it's an acquired taste." she remarked.

Yamcha scowled and then forced a smile. "Yeah, it's a taste I don't think I'll be acquiring for quite some time." he muttered.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, for the most part, Yamcha searching his thoughts, griping silently, and Bulma obsessing to herself about the baby that was coming. She stared wistfully off into space, sighing every once and awhile. The waitress, a different one this time (thank Kami) came by and deposited the tab. Yamcha set down the cash and tucked a tip under his coffee mug and stood up stiffly. He turned around and waited for Bulma as she staggered up, her slender hand seeking his own. 

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, tugging at his hand.

"Nothing." he snapped. "I'm just a little stressed, that's all." he finished.

"Don't I know it." she said.

__

No, you know nothing about it. That is precisely the problem, he mentally grumbled. But he was smart and kept his mouth shut, opening up the car door for Bulma, and then walking around and getting in himself. He turned the key in the ignition, starting up the car. They drove home in silence, Yamcha gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned an ivory white. 

~*~

Bulma stepped out of the car cautiously, looking nervously at Yamcha. He had been acting strangely, and maybe half of it was her fault. He was a little unstable at times... She followed him inside, stepping through the door just in time to see him stalk off. She figured she'd distance herself and give him some space. He'd come around by supper. He always did...

Tonight he didn't. He moped around the house all day, or hid up in his room. As for supper, the meal was pretty much non-existent. Bulma rummaged around for something to eat, but found nothing of interest, not to mention she was feeling queasy again. She snuck down the hall to Yamcha's room and gently pushed open his bedroom door. He was sitting curled up on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chin. He glared daggers at Bulma the moment he caught sight of her.

"Hey." she said, smiling weakly in an attempt to cheer him up.

She was met with a cold glare. "What are you smiling at? Go away." he snapped.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better? You look so down." she said sadly, scuffing her toe into the carpet. 

Yamcha's lips curved up into a smile. "Actually," he smirked. "there may be something you can do... It would really cheer me up."

Bulma stepped back nervously. The grin he had on wasn't a sweet, stupid smile; no, it was a twisted leer. It wasn't even Yamcha's usual perverted 'hentai' grin. It was a sinister smirk. He reached out his hand and cupped one of her breast, a hungry sneer on his face. 

"See, I'm feeling much better now..." he said huskily.

Bulma slapped him in the face. Hard. And stomped on his foot.

"_Hentai!_ " she barked. Yamcha didn't shrink away and cower like usual, instead, he stayed his ground. He turned his head back to face her and let his grin fall into an emotionless frown. He raised his own hand and slapped her back, knocking her down against the wall. He growled, standing over her.

"Don't rob me of this...everyone takes away my happiness..." he rasped. He began to fumble with his buckle, slipping his belt off and tossing it behind him. He began to work on his zipper, growling as the metal teeth stuck and refused to budge.

"Yamcha...what are you doing?" Bulma whispered, almost afraid of the answer. 

He forced the zipper open and unbuttoned his pants, working them down so that they hung rumpled around his ankles. A bulge pressing against his shorts gave away just _what_ he wanted. He was all business, no silly smile or stupid blush. This was no joke.

"I'm doing something I should have done in the beginning." he murmured, dropping his shorts. 

He was on her in an instant, reaching his hand up her dress and pulling away her panties. He forced her legs apart and stared hungrily at her quivering pink entrance for a moment before forcing in his swollen member, fueled solely by the penned up want that plagued his psyche. He bucked his hips violently, tearing the tender flesh of her opening. His nails dug deep ruts into her shoulders, and he pressed his mouth against hers, swallowing up her pained cries with a kiss so forceful it bruised her lips. He pulled away, licking her cheek like a crazed animal before dropping his face to her breasts.

"Beauty…you are my beauty…" he murmured.

Bulma screamed, feeling terrified, violated and betrayed. The one person she could trust had sunk lower than the one she had just fled. She beat at his head with both of her fists; all the while tears rolling down her face as she pled for mercy.

"Yamcha...please...stop! _Stop!_ You're hurting...you're hurting me! Ow! Please just...stop...stop..." she choked, sobbing loudly. 

~*~

Bulma's cries reached the depths of Yamcha's mind, pulling him back to his senses. He looked up into her eyes. They were so full of fear, so full of sorrow... As he gazed into her tear-soaked eyes, he caught his own lusty, violent stare reflected in her azure irises. He stopped immediately, his hands shaking. He drew out and toppled backward, the reality of what he had just done sinking in. He grabbed his shorts and pulled them on, reaching up and grabbing his jacket off the edge of the bed. He crawled over and sat by Bulma, putting his arm around her shoulders. Unlike he had expected, she didn't flinch or yell, she just sat there crying. She actually leaned against him, cuddling close. 

"I'm sorry...so sorry...I just don't know what happened to me...I...I..." he trailed off, his own tears running down his face. She embraced him tightly, letting him know he was already forgiven.

"It's okay...it will be okay. You're _you_ now. You're back. Let's just forget..." she whispered sadly. 

Yamcha nodded and wrapped his jacket around the both of them and dozed off, holding his one true love as they fell asleep, backs against the cool wall.

****

**__**

Cherry: Yeah, this chapter started funny and amusing, but then it got sort of...dark and angry. Rape, violence.....why must such happy things end this way? At least the ending was sort of okay. I'll write more soon! Until next time, ja ne!


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